


Sy Drabbles

by SlipperySkell



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animals, Canon-Typical Violence, Deathclaws, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, everything is bigger than it actually is in game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18995026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlipperySkell/pseuds/SlipperySkell
Summary: Basically, these chapters are little short stories that I have written but found they didn't fit into Ashes. Absolutely not in any particular order, especially chronological. Some things are fluffy, some angsty, all sorts of things going on here.





	1. Was a dark, stormy night... Sy Edition!

Rain fell softly against the ruins of Boston city, clattering against the rusty sheet metal roofs of scavengers’ shacks and puddling up in potholes that dotted the ancient roads. The occasional lantern or set of string lights dotted the streets as an effort to stave off the gloomy night and the horrors night brings. Few people were awake at the hour, save for a pair of raiders, who were on night watch while their comrades slept off the copious amounts of booze they had drank earlier. 

They sat leisurely under the metal eave they were using to hide from the rain, idly chattering and bragging about their accomplishments to pass the time. 

“Yeah?” The first sneered in a nasaly voice. “Well, I bet you couldn’t’ve taken on a passing group of Super Mutants like me and Mike did. We took those big green fucks out, just the two of us! Made a fuck ton o’money outta the shit they had on ‘em, too.” 

The second snorted. “Right, right. And where’s Mike now?” 

The first shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Hey, now. Mike tried his best to keep that deathclaw off us-” 

“We’d’ve all been dead if it weren’t for me.” The second said gruffly. “Had I not used the grenade to blow that flooring out from underneath that bastard’s feet -” He paused to take a sip from his own bottle of booze. 

“- we’d have all been fucked.” He finished with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

The first rolled his eyes and growled. “Of course.” 

There was a few minutes of tense silence between the two. The noise of the rain hitting against the metal eave filled the void. The first perked up as he saw the silhouette of someone approaching their shack. He prodded the leg of the second, rousing him from his slumber. The first reached for the pipe pistol in his waistband and stood up. 

“Hey!” he called out. “State your business, or whatever the fuck.” 

The figure stopped. 

“Just goin’ for a walk,” a woman’s voice rasped. “Don’t need to get worked up.” 

The pair exchanged a glance and grinned. Sounded like easy pickings.

“Ain’t it a little late to be takin’ a stroll, miss?” The second asked as he, too, got out of his seat. 

The woman chuckled, just barely audible above the rain. “Never too late to clear your head.” 

“S’kinda rainy outside, y’know.” The second slurred with a grin. “Wouldn’t ya rather be out of the weather? Maybe spend some time with some fine folks like us?” 

The figure shifted, and the orange speck of a cigarette ember could be seen flaring up momentarily before disappearing against the silhouette once again. 

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass.” The woman said in amusement. 

“I wasn’t asking.” the second growled as he pulled out his own weapon of choice - a heavily modded pipe rifle. The first glanced at the second as he aimed his weapon at the figure before aiming his own.

“Step out into th’ light where we can see ya.” The second commanded.

“Now, now, fellas,” the woman cooed. “There’s no need to get worked up.” 

“He said,” the first snarled. “Step out into th’ fuckin’ light. Now.” 

There was a beat of silence before the woman spoke. 

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here, my friends.” she warned. A cacophony of growls and snarls could be heard around her. The first froze, but the second just scowled. The rain began to pick up, and flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder arced through the sky every so often.

“Quit playin’ fuckin’ games, you dumb bitch!” He shouted. “Get your ass into this fuckin’ light ‘n’ dump all ya fuckin’ shit where we can see it!” 

“Uh, Jeff -” 

“Shut th’ fuck up and go bring her in this fuckin’ light.” 

“Jeff -” 

“Shut. Th’ fuck. Up. N’ go get her shit.” 

The first hesitated for a moment before stepping out from the eave and slowly making his way down the stairs. The woman chuckled again. 

“You sure you wanna go through with this?” The woman asked. The first paused. 

“Don’ listen t’ her, Dave. Jus’ take her shit.” Jeff ordered. Dave looked back up at Jeff one more time before making his way down the stairs and out onto the road. 

Just then, a bright flash of lightning arced overhead, revealing the woman’s mangled face and the massive, snarling shapes of 4 deathclaws behind her before being plunged into darkness once more. Dave’s eyes widened in shock and dropped his pistol to the ground as he stumbled back. Jeff lowered his own weapon and stared as well. 

“Wrong choice, my friends.” The woman said, her voice just above a whisper. She pulled something out of her pocket, the shine of metal glinting against the lamp light. She took the cigarette she had in her mouth out and replaced it with the metal object. 

A short, high-pitched whistle could be heard echoing around the street, and chaos shortly ensued. 

The wall of beasts rushed forward, and the woman swept herself along with it. Dave tried to run for safety, but it was beyond far too late. A claw reached out from the darkness and grabbed him before dragging him into the shadows. His terrified screams quickly delved into nothing more than agonzied gurgles, and then... silence.

Jeff screamed and opened fire, but the beasts brushed off the bullets, and simply turned to snarl at him. The woman was nowhere to be seen. One of the deathclaws charged forward and ripped up the fencing blocking Jeff from it. It swiped at him, knocking his gun out of his hands and onto the ground below with a clatter before letting out a rumbling bellow. Jeff stumbled back into the door and busted it open with the momentum. If the people inside hadn’t been woken up by the commotion outside yet, they had been now. 

He tried to crawl back, deeper into the shack where it would be too much of a reach for the ‘claw to grab him, but it was too late. The beast’s talons hooked into his pant leg and it dragged him out. He tried to grab for the doorway, but he lost his grip and was ripped away. He then reached forward and tried to punch it in the nose, the eyes, anything - but it did nothing. The beast lifted him into the air by his leg and slammed him into the ground with a sickening series of cracks. He didn’t move after that. 

Three more raiders stumbled out of the shack, guns in hand, shouting profanities, but with three cracks of a shotgun echoing throughout the block, they fell, one by one. One of them stumbled and fell off the porch, out on the road, just under the lights. Their ragged breath could be heard as they struggled to move back into the shadows. Back into relative safety. 

A figure walked into the light and nudged the survivor with the tip of their boot, forcing them onto their back. They coughed and spluttered, and a line of crimson began to dribble down from their mouth. The survivor looked up at the person who’d flipped them over, and through their fading vision, they could just make out a mangled face and the figure-eight shape of a shotgun barrel being aimed just above their eyes. 

One final crack was sounded before silence fell around the block once more. 

The woman stepped back and surveyed the carnage that surrounded her. The deathclaws were already at the corpses, using their claws to pick at the inedible armor and clothing before delving into the flesh underneath. She smiled softly at them as they noisily feasted and bickered over which parts they wanted before checking the inside of the shack for any stragglers. Afterwards, she moved to put her shotgun back in its holster and took a drag on her cigarette. She watched the smoke billow out from her mouth and nose as she breathed out, and watched it swirl as rain drops passed through the cloud before looking back at the deathclaws’ newest meals with a cold smirk. 

“Never really do learn, do you?”


	2. itty bitty tiddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of them have asscheeks and it comes up in conversation often. Not to worry, this is entirely SFW. Just some jokin' around, all in good fun.

“Porter, do you even have asscheeks?” Sy blurted out as she, Gage, and Hancock made their way through Sanctuary to get to her shack. “Or does your back just go straight into your thighs?”

Gage glared at Sy tiredly before letting out a slow breath and shaking his head, but couldn’t hide the small grin that formed. 

“You ain’t much one to talk, Miss 2x4,” Gage countered. Sy mockingly put a hand to her mouth and gasped. 

“Porter! You wound me so!” she murmured. “I just ask you a genuine, innocent question, and you just attack me! By calling me a 2x4!”   
“Damn right I did,” Gage said sternly. He punctuated his words by kicking a stone off the dirt path. “I might not got much of an ass, but you ain’t got much, either.”

“Well, yeah,” Sy murmured after a moment. “But I have more than you!” 

“And I have titties,” she said proudly, puffing out her rather flat chest. All three of them stopped walking at this point. Gage and Hancock exchanged a glance before looking at Sy, who was beginning to deflate under their excruciating gaze. 

“Well, yeah,” Gage said slowly. “But you got, like… little titties.” 

“Itty bitty titties,” Hancock chimed in. Gage grinned.

“Reckon you’re a part of the itty bitty titty committee, then, yeah?”

“S’that mean your bras are itty bitty titty mitties?”

“Do they live in the itty bitty titty cities?” 

“Guys.”

“If your itty bitty titties are rich, does that mean they spend itty bitty titty fiddies?”

“Guys-”

“If they’re hungry, do they eat itty bitty chicken fritties?”

“Guys! Knock it off!” Sy snapped. “I get it. I have small boobs. Jeez…”

“Don’t you mean,” Hancock started with a grin. “Your itty bitty titties, who are proud members of the itty bitty titty committee in their local itty bitty titty city, spending itty bitty titty fiddies so they can chow down on some itty bitty chicken fritties?”

Sy turned to Hancock slowly and stared at him blankly before continuing up the path to the shack. Hancock and Gage exchanged another glance before busting out into laughter, which made Sy burst into giggles by extension as she unlocked the door.

As she stepped inside, she spun and looked around with a relaxed smile. Gage and Hancock followed suit, dumping their armor and gear on the floor before unceremoniously flopping on the furniture. Sy looked to them then, contemplating joining them, but suddenly perked up as though she had an idea. She rushed outside and ran to the back of the house, under the balcony, and hurriedly sat in the dirt before a nozzle. She quickly turned it on and marveled at the sound of water running through the pipes before running back inside with an excited smile. 

Ah, the joys of working plumbing! She could take a nice, warm shower first thing when she got home.


	3. Born Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Chapter one of the first draft for Ashes.

She awoke with a start, feeling nothing but the icy cold that shook her to the core. The sounds of alarms beeping could be heard beyond her cryo pod, shrieking in all manner of tones, warning whoever could hear to evacuate. She feebly pushed the door, her muscles weak from lack of use. With a final, desperate shove, however, the door gave way, and the pod spat her out onto the cold, wet floor. 

She fell unceremoniously, coughing and sputtering, and for a while, she couldn’t move. When she finally could, she pushed herself up to her hands and knees, looking up to the pod in front of her before she slowly, shakily got to her feet. She brushed the shoulder length, auburn hair out of her face and looked into the pod’s window, to the face of the man within. 

He was middle aged, a few years older than she was. He had shortish black hair, which was laden with frost. Stubble faintly flourished along the lower half of his face. His eyes were closed, but she knew the hazel orbs that rested behind those lids. 

She stumbled over to the hatch release button to the pod and pressed it after a moment’s hesitation. She watched as the door opened with a hiss, and watched as the door exposed the man’s awkwardly slumped body, the arms that looked like they had been holding something once, and the long-frozen red blood that contrasted against the blue fabric of the vault suit he wore. 

He was dead. He’d been shot in the chest.

She looked at his corpse almost timidly, thinking he may still just wake up. Thinking that his eyes will just open, and he’ll be just like usual. But he didn’t. Minute after minute passed, alarms and lights still blaring and flashing away, and nothing happened. He was dead, and was staying that way. 

She felt nothing. 

She looked down to the ring on her left hand. It was a wedding ring. A simple thing, really. It was just a band of gold, and held no gems of any kind. She twirled it around her finger with her thumb, debating something, before sliding it off with her other hand and dropping it on the ground. 

He was dead. She didn’t need to wear it anymore. 

She turned to the other pods, looking to see if anybody else had survived. They had been told this was just a decontamination sequence when they got here. They were never told it was… whatever this was. But perhaps this is what was supposed to happen…? Perhaps the cold is what killed off the bacteria or whatever else? 

But if that’s the case, where are the doctors and the scientists? She questioned to herself as she tried, in vain, to open the other pods. And why would there be alarms going off? 

 

None of the other pods were opening, so she decided it was best to leave them. They were likely all dead, too, anyway. She began wandering the halls, noting the flickering lights and slightly rusting walls as she went. She neared a window to what must’ve been the power generator room and noticed something clinging to the glass before clumsily sliding off at her approach. She only caught a glimpse of it, but she could’ve sworn she saw a shell and legs. It… it almost looked like a cockroach. 

A giant, cat-sized cockroach… 

No, whatever happened here did not go as planned. Or perhaps it did. She wasn’t sure who in their right minds would want a cockroach that big, or a bunch of frozen people, but… there was a lot of strange things going on in the world. Maybe the cockroaches were just a little side experiment. For… food. Or something. Maybe the newest attraction for the Nuka-World’s zoo? She’d always wondered how they got some of their more… unusual animals. Perhaps, if the technology was still here… 

She slowly continued along her way, taking her time, as she was still short of breath since her emergence. She grew cautious at each roach frantically skittering by. At least they didn’t seem keen on trying to eat her, she supposed. They seemed more scared of her than anything. She was rather thankful for that, as she was worried her fists wouldn’t do much to the sturdy shells they bore. 

She gingerly stepped over the bones of what was once one of the vault residents with a look of horror. What on earth happened here? Did the roaches take this person’s life? Are they horrid little carnivores after all? She looked to a small group of them who were huddled against the wall. They scurried off, seemingly frightened by her simply turning her attention to them. 

Perhaps not…? 

She made her way up a small flight of stairs before opening the door that lay beyond, revealing an office room of sorts. There was a C-shaped desk with a terminal, and there were more bones scattered on the floor and on top of an overturned chair. She went to the terminal and turned it on, much to her surprise. 

Her eyes widened as she scrolled through the entries. Apparently, she and the others were put into some kind of cryo-stasis. Just like out of those comic books she read when she was little. The people living here had gone into mutiny against the Overseer of the vault after they were all put to sleep. They never got their “all-clear” signal after spending how many months down here. It also mentioned nothing of the roaches, which made her uneasy. 

Months… Christ, she’d been down here for months? 

She turned the terminal off and pulled away, looking troubled as she wandered about the room. She noticed something odd in a little closed off area, in a glass case on the wall next to some shelves. It looked like a gun of sorts, but had god knows how many wires and tubes running along its… what is it called? The barrel? Must’ve been that Cryolator thing that was mentioned in the terminal. She went to open the case, but found it unfortunately locked tight. She found herself too weak to break open the case, even with the help of the various things she smashed or threw against the glass, so she instead turned to the shelves beside it, now frustrated. 

Her frustration quickly faded away, however, when she saw the pistol and what was assumably a box of ammo for the pistol resting on the shelves. She grabbed them both before slowly setting the ammo back down on the shelf, momentarily distracted by inspecting the gun. She’d never used one before, let alone hold one. She turned it in her hands, pulling at the various doohickies with an almost reckless curiosity.

That is, until she accidentally pulled the trigger. 

She flinched at the loud bang of the pistol going off, causing it to go flying from her hands and clattering onto the floor. When she lifted her head from her arms, she saw the bullet hole she left in the wall and looked around awkwardly before picking the gun back up and placing it back on the shelf where she found it. Maybe she shouldn’t have that kind of power... 

She heard skittering behind her and noticed the roaches had made their way into the office. She looked back to the pistol, then back to the roaches. Then back to the gun once more. 

Maybe, just in case… 

She picked the pistol back up and put it in the holster that had also been sitting on the shelf. She strapped it on and grabbed the ammo box before cautiously stepping out of the little room, keeping an eye on the group of roaches in front of her. All but one of the roaches skittered off at her approach. It was the largest of the group.

“Uh,” she started awkwardly, her voice hoarse. “Hi. You’re big, aren’t you?” 

It didn’t answer, choosing instead to waggle its long, whip-like antennae at her and hiss. 

“Yep. You sure are a big one. Bet you’ve eaten the most people out of your posse.” 

Still no answer. Just more antennae waggles. Its big black eyes stared vacantly at her and its mandibles twitched.

She paused for a moment and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why am I talking to a cockroach…?”

Naturally, the cockroach provided no answers to this question, and instead decided to join its friends. Wherever they ran off to… 

She left them to their business and continued on her way, using the terminal at the desk to open the door, which led to a corridor. She yelped when she felt something brush against her leg and looked down to see the whole group of roaches barge past her and head to the left. She turned to the right, hoping that there may be an alternative route, but only found a dead end. No, fate decree that she followed the giant cryptic roaches, she thought with a frown. Of course. 

She followed them down the hall and found herself opening two more doors, both for herself, and the ever growing group of roaches seemingly eager to leave. When she opened the second, they all scurried off in a hurry, antennae flailing and legs skittering. She watched them leave, feeling an odd sense of sadness at their departure. They were creepy, and they were cryptic, but… they had answers. They had to have had answers to what the hell was going on here. Right? 

She looked down to the pile of bones now at her feet, and noticed a weird contraption that was strapped around the arm bones. She picked it up, letting the bones slide out of the strap, before inspecting it. It looked like a little mini computer of sorts, with all sorts of bells and whistles. She placed it around her forearm and strapped it on before clicking on the power button, more out of curiosity than anything else. She cleared the screen of dust and looked at what she assumed was the controls to the vault door as she waited for the thing to power all the way on. 

She pressed the big red button on the controls and was met with: “Pip-Boy interface required to activate vault door cycling sequence. Have a nice day.” 

She looked back down to the Pip-Boy’s screen and noticed it was asking for the name of the new user. She pressed ‘remind me later’, deciding that she could worry about it when she wasn’t stuck in this vault full of dead people and cryptic bugs. 

Was she the only one left? Was everyone else really dead? 

She spent the next few minutes trying to figure out how the hell she was supposed to connect the Pip-Boy to the vault controls before finally realizing that she needed to use the little cylinder thingy on the back. She mentally smacked herself in the forehead for that. She plugged it in and pressed the big red button again before stepping back and watching as alarms went off and lights blared. 

“Vault door cycling sequence initiated. Please stand back.”

The contraption that was just beyond the vault controls buzzed to life, its joints squeaking with disuse as it moved forward to the vault door. A drill extended from it and inserted itself into a hole in the center of the gear. Sparks flew from the machine’s engine as the contraption turned some mechanisms on the door before pulling the door away from the wall. With a great blow of steam, began to roll it down its tracks to the side. 

She was momentarily blinded by the bright light that lay beyond the door. A rusty old walkway leading to the doorway extended in front of the platform she stood on. She pushed past the gates to the ramp up the walkway and made her way to the other side, her eyes squinting against the still very bright white lighting. She made her way down the stairs to the elevator, where it had just made contact to the floor upon her arrival. The gate around the elevator lifted and opened, the mechanisms protesting with almost earsplitting shrieks and squeals, and she finally stepped inside. The gates then closed and the elevator hissed, as though it had sensed her entering its premise. It was more likely the Pip-Boy it registered than her, she realized. Being able to detect biologics in an area was only possible in comic books, as far as she knew. 

“Enjoy your return to the surface. And thank you for choosing Vault-Tec.” 

As the elevator began its slow ascent upward, she looked up to the rather small speck of light above her before looking back to the Pip-Boy on her arm. She had some time to kill, she supposed. She flicked it on, its green light bright against the darkness that shrouded the elevator shaft. She wandered through a few menus, exploring the features the Pip-Boy offered, before another username prompt came up. She almost pressed the ‘remind me later’ option again, but decided against it. Everyone in that vault was dead, so it wasn’t like she needed to give this back to anybody. She could make it hers…

A keyboard flicked out from underneath the screen for her to type with. She was just about to start typing when she heard something scrabbling at the metal flooring. She maneuvered her arm to use the light of the Pip-Boy’s screen as a flashlight, and froze when she saw one of those big roaches - the biggest one of the group from before - had made it onto the elevator with her. How she hadn’t noticed it before was beyond her, but here it was, anyway. It skittered awkwardly about, its clawed feet finding no traction on the floor, before stopping and remaining still for a few moments. Then, it would try to take off running again, but only found itself still slipping clumsily along. After a few more tries, it finally stopped, seemingly having given up.

She wasn’t sure what to do about the bug. That is, until its shell lifted, exposing transparent, sturdy wings. It lifted off the ground, sending itself careening right in her direction. The decision to be made was very apparent by then. 

She let out a bloodcurdling scream and swung her Pip-Boy arm at it, landing a solid blow on its body. It fell away and hissed, its wings buzzing and legs scrabbling for purchase as it tried to regain its balance in the air. As it circled around to gain altitude, she grabbed the pistol she picked up before from her holster and starting firing at it. She missed the first two times, but the third shot hit, sending the bug plummeting out of the air. She kept shooting the roach until there were no bullets left in the pistol. She shook with fear, her breathing heavy and her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at the twitching, mangled corpse oozing God knows what sorts of juices onto the floor. She kept the gun trained on it, despite not having any bullets left in it, fully expecting it to get up and try to make a go for her again. Hardy bastards that they were...

After a moment or two, she finally put the pistol back in its holster and let out a steady breath. It was alright. It wasn’t going to be causing a problem anymore. It was fine. After taking a precautionary moment of making sure it actually wasn’t going to cause anymore problems, she looked back to her Pip-Boy. The username prompt was still there, the cursor flashing patiently as it waited for an entry. She began typing without giving it any thought, her hands shaky from the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

S-A-R … 

She stopped, her finger hovering over the keyboard. 

He was dead. They were all dead. She’d been down in that vault for a few months, at least. Not many people knew her. At least, no one who would care enough to try and drag her home again when she got out of here. She didn’t have to use that name anymore if she didn’t want to. At least not for this. 

She hit the backspace button two times and left the S. 

She could use her real name. No one could stop her this time. 

S-Y-T-A-A-R-U-S D-I-C-K-I-N-S-O-N.

She went to press the enter key, but found herself stopping again as she looked at her last name. That wasn’t hers. That was… Nate’s. 

She didn’t need to use that name anymore, either. Nate was dead now. 

She hit the backspace a few times, but left the D there before retyping her last name out. 

D-Y-T-H-U-U-R. 

Sytaarus Dythuur. That was her name. Her real name. It had been so long since she used it, let alone thought much of it, she almost forgot what it was…

Almost. 

Sy pressed the enter key with a small smile on her face and looked up to the slowly growing circle of light above her. It looked like she’d be sitting on that elevator for a while yet, but despite the questions that swirled in her head, she didn’t really mind. She looked back down to her Pip-Boy and started fiddling with its settings. It was hers now, after all. She could change it to however she liked. 

A few minutes passed before the elevator finally grew near the entrance above. The doors at the top slid open as the elevator breached the surface, and Sy had to shield her face from the piercing sunlight with her hand. As the elevator powered down, Sy stepped off and had a look around. She took note of the seemingly dead trees, the brown grass with patches of white snow, and the rusted, damaged buildings that made up what used to be her hometown. A somber silence filled the air. 

Everything was gone. Everyone was gone. 

Sy shivered, both at the cold that still seated itself in her bones, and that her startling revelation. 

The world ended, and she was all that was left. 

It was time to start anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! You're probably wondering why this and the other chapters for Ashes are and/or are going to be here. I decided to start over with the fic and change a few major things that you'll notice right away, namely with it no longer being from Sy's perspective. I didn't want to get rid of these since they are somewhat good reads, so I'm moving them here while I rewrite.


	4. Fresh Out Of The Fridge

No one was home, or at least alive and home, when Sy checked the ruined houses of Sanctuary. It made Sy both relieved and anxious. On the one hand, it had taken her a concerning amount of time to figure out how to reload her pistol. Having to deal with that during a tense situation wouldn’t have turned too well. She would’ve likely just thrown the gun at the threat at that point. It would’ve been more useful. Luckily, though, no threats came. The most she saw were more human bones and giant flies that didn’t seem to care all that much about her, and flew off across the river when she got too close. To Sy’s dismay, the bones and flies were in rather close proximity to one another. It made her worried. Were all the bugs people eaters now?

But on the other hand… There was no actual, possible way she was the only one still alive, right? There had to still be people out there? 

It had only been a few months since the bombs dropped, and there were more vaults out there from what Sy could remember, what with all the advertisements she saw in the cities and on billboards along the roadways. So if absolutely no one survived out here when the bombs dropped, there were surely people who were alive underground. Unless they were put into cryo stasis, too… What if she had to get them out? 

She pondered this as she sat in front of the quaint little fire she made for herself, under the overhang of one of the yellow houses. The sun had begun to fall since she started the fire, and Sy decided it would be best to stick around Sanctuary for at least tonight. She would’ve set up shop by her old house, but… there were too many memories she’d rather not think about tied to that house. Even in its ruined state, it was painful to even look at. 

It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to start the fire. Gathering dry sticks and brush was hard enough with all the thawing going on, but on top of that? She had no idea how to actually start the fire. She ended up rooting around some of the houses, after checking for any residents, to find a lighter. On top of that, she also gathered some silverware, crab shell scissors, a platter, and a salt shaker. She would’ve grabbed the pepper, but it was all moldy and gross. 

She found six of the damned things and only one of them worked. But it was alright. She got her fire, and she had a meal cooking. It sizzled on the spit she had set up over the fire, and smelt oddly good. She didn’t really want to eat it, but after searching the houses, none of the food she found was any good, so she had no choice. 

It was odd, though. Even the stuff that kept for years didn’t seem to survive the bombs. Maybe it was just the heat given off spoiling it all? 

She didn’t know, but she wagered there were still plenty of things to eat and drink, in some place or another. 

As Sy waited for her meal to cook, she’d been fiddling with her Pip-Boy some more. She figured out how to access a map of the area, though the location entries had been wiped clean, and there seemed to be some kind of stock taking function she could use to keep track of what she had on her. It could even tune into radio stations, though she didn’t recognize any of them, except for the Nuka-Cola Family Radio. The more she found out about this thing, the more she liked it. It was proving to be very, very handy. 

She took her meal off the fire to let it cool and became distracted as she looked through the radio stations again. It was pretty quiet in town, and Sy felt like listening to some good tunes to break the silence while she ate.

Diamond City Radio, Classical Radio, Nuka-Cola Family Radio…

She flicked to the Nuka-Cola Family Radio first. The Nuka-Cola jingle played in the background as a cartoony, deep voice came on. Bottle the Nuka-Cola bottle, if she remembered right.

“Hiya, kids! Remember, Nuka-World is only open for a few more weeks in October! Come down and see me and Cappy one last time before buckling down for the winter. Don't forget to bring your empty bottle of Nuka-Cola to get 15 dollars off at the gate! So hop aboard the Nuka-Express and come and see the whole Nuka family while you still can!

“The Nuka-Express is accessible through the Nuka-World Transit Center. Parking fees will apply. Prices subject to change due to end of season. Nuka-World, Nuka-Express, and the Nuka-Cola characters are all registered trademarks of the Nuka-Cola Corporation.” 

The message was on loop, so Sy decided to tune to a different station. Diamond City Radio sounded fancy. Why not try that one?

The first thing she heard was the voice of a very nervous man stuttering about… Choice Chops? What? 

“Ch.. uhhh… Choice Chops wants you to, uhhh…. Wants you to know we only sell, well… uhh, meat. Just… Just meat. Stop, uhh… stop asking if we, uh, we sell anything else.” 

Sy frowned. Okay, then. This is weird. Moving on. 

She tuned into the classical radio station. Soft instrumental music played, the sound drifting around the vacant street. It sounded familiar, but the name was entirely lost on her. It wasn’t particularly fun music, but it was better than nothing. 

She gave her meal a cautious poke to see if it was still too hot to touch or eat. When it seemed like it was cool enough, she gingerly pulled it off the spit and plopped it down on the big platter she had grabbed from one of the houses. 

The meal? The cockroach she killed earlier. It certainly wasn’t a first choice meal, but she didn’t have anything else to eat. She ripped off a leg and used the crab shell scissors to cut it open. She poked and prodded at the flesh to determine whether or not it was actually cooked, and it seemed to be. It was quite hot on the inside yet, so she figured it was cooked through. She didn’t know for certain, however. It’s not like she’s cooked giant cockroaches on the regular. 

She pulled the flesh from the shell and, after a moment’s hesitation, popped it into her mouth. 

It was really stringy, but juicy. In all honesty, it did taste a lot like chicken. Really greasy chicken. Could use some salt, though. She fumbled with the salt shaker and shook some salt onto her next bite before popping that into her mouth, too. She nodded to herself in satisfaction and dug in. Maybe these things were actually made for consumption at some point. They were terrifying, but damn, were they tasty!

She got about three legs through before she was full. As she took one last bite, she licked her fingers and looked around, wondering where she could store this fine-tasting bug so it didn’t spoil. There didn’t seem to be any power to the town anymore, so it wasn’t like she could just throw it in a fridge and call it a day. 

But with all this snow around…

She got up and went to the blue house across the street. She remembered seeing a cooler in the backyard, by the grill. She opened it and emptied its contents - some bottles of Nuka-Cola and beer cans - before hauling it over to a snow bank. She dumped some snow into the bottom of the cooler before placing the roach carcass on top of it, then dumped more snow over it. It wasn’t the best way to save it, but it was better than nothing. She rolled the cooler back across the street, where her fire was, and shoved it up against a wall. She stacked the platter, her silverware, the crab shell scissors, and the salt shaker on top of it before plopping back down by the fire. 

She shivered. The sun had fallen below the horizon now, and a creeping cold had begun to settle. It wouldn’t be long before the fire did little to warm her, but she wanted to stay out for just a little bit longer. The stars were starting to come out, and she hadn’t gotten to see them in such a long time. 

Funny, they all looked so much brighter now, without all the light pollution coming from the city. Everything was just so much quieter. So much more… peaceful. Aside from the giant bugs, of course. Really, though, she hoped she didn’t have to live this on her own. It’d be miles better than the people before, but… 

No. She’d rather not think about that. 

She focused on the music playing out of her Pip-Boy for a while and stared up at the stars, getting lost in idle thoughts and the wonder of the world she found herself in. It wasn’t long before fatigue crept in and took her unawares. Her eyes drifted shut and she fell asleep, leaned against the cooler beside the fire.

~~

It was early morning when she woke up. The fire had long since gone out, and she was freezing. Her body ached from the odd position she had slept in. She turned off her Pip-Boy’s radio and stretched, her muscles painfully protesting, before getting up and putting out the last of the smoldering embers. She planned to head out, after all, so there wasn’t any need to keep that fire going.

Her breakfast consisted of two more cockroach legs, and one of those Nuka-Colas she dumped out of the cooler. It wasn’t completely flat, but it definitely wasn’t as fizzy as it used to be, either. It was nice and cold, though. Likely because of how cold it got that night. She put her roach carcass back in the cooler and neatly stacked her supplies, including the now empty bottle of Nuka-Cola, back on top of it. 

She figured she would be on her way back to Sanctuary by the day’s end, so she decided it was best to keep her stuff where it was, as opposed to lugging it along with her. Besides, there was no way she’d be able to lug that cooler with her over that bridge, judging by just how rickety the damned thing looked. 

She was just about ready to head back to her little camp to find any last minute supplies before she left, when she saw something floating along the road from across the bridge. 

It was heading towards the town. 

She froze, unsure what to do, before diving through a long since broken window of the nearest house. She peeked from behind the sill, pistol in hand, and waited for the thing to float up. 

It wasn’t long before it finally did. It was a Mr. Handy, of all things. It’s round hull was dulled and a little rusted with age, but it was otherwise in perfect condition. All three eyes and limbs were intact, and looked to be functional. She could’ve swore she heard it muttering to itself, though she wasn’t sure what it was saying.

One of its eye stalks swiveled in Sy’s general direction and she panicked. She ducked under the window sill, and would’ve been safe, had her trigger finger not twitched with her sudden movements and caused the gun to go off. 

She flinched and cursed under her breath. It was aimed for the wall, so luckily she didn’t injure herself, but she knew the bot was on her now. She shoved herself up against the window sill wall and prayed it didn’t come any closer. 

“Hello? Who goes there?” the classic, automated British male voice called out rather nervously. It was met with silence. 

Sy could hear the whir of its thruster come closer to the window and she grew as still as a corpse. It was going to find her. She was going to get sawed in half and she just knew it. 

“Come out this once! I know you’re in there! I’m… I’m armed!” the bot called out, this time sounding a bit more determined than before. 

Sy could hear the thrusters move even closer. It sounded like it was right behind her. She held her breath and waited. This was it. She saw a shadow of something looming over her head and she looked up. She was met with a metal eyestalk gazing down at her. The little lenses in the eye readjusted for a moment and a long, drawn out gasp flew from the bot’s speaker. 

“Ms. Dythuur?!” 

Sy’s eyes widened in shock. This wasn’t just any old Mr. Handy. This was…

“Codsworth? Is that really you?” 

“It is! And it’s really you, my dear!” the bot in question exclaimed as he withdrew from the window. “I can’t believe it! Come out here so I can see you!”

Sy pulled away from the window and awkwardly stepped through the sill. She quickly brushed off the dust that collected on her vault suit and noted a little tear she got on the leg from her daring leap before looking back up at Codsworth. 

He sounded like he was sobbing. “As I live and breath…” 

Tears welled up in Sy’s eyes and she smiled. “It really is you, isn’t it, Codsworth?” she asked again, her voice soft. “God… God, I’m so glad you made it. You’re still here… does… that mean other people are still here…?” 

“Well of course I’m still here,” he said with a chuckle. His hand claw gestured to himself as he spoke. “Surely you don’t think a little radiation would deter the pride of General Atomics International?” 

Sy laughed, which made Codsworth laugh, too.

“But you seem a little worse for wear,” he said softly. He floated closer and fussed at Sy’s hair and clothes. Straightening the hem of her suit, brushing her hair away from her face. She looked away and huffed. 

“Oh, don’t fuss at me, Ms.,” he said sternly. “You know you don’t want Nate to see you that way.” 

He stopped after a moment, his eyestalks swiveling about as he looked for the man in question. 

“Where is he, by the way?”

Sy looked at the eyestalk still intently trained on her dead on. “He’s dead.” 

All three eyestalks suddenly turned to her. His hand claw pulled away from her just a bit, and silence filled the air. There was a solid few seconds before Codsworth spoke again. He was choosing his words carefully, and Sy knew it, much to her annoyance.

“... How… How do you feel?” he asked quietly. Sy looked him up and down and a hint of a smile graced her features.

“I think you already know how I feel.” 

Codsworth looked around again before drifting closer. His volume was just above a whisper. “Forgive me for asking this, Sytaarus, but… You didn’t, well, you know-” 

“No, no, of course not,” Sy hissed. “I couldn’t have had the guts to do it, even if I wanted to.”

She looked back up the hill, to the vault. “No, it was some guy. He shot him and took Shaun.”

“You didn’t know this man, I assume?” 

“No,” she said angrily, whipping back to face Codsworth. “No I didn’t.” 

She looked away and rubbed at her arms. “Look, I get… I get I talked about that sort of thing. But I didn’t send or pay anybody to take him out. I can assure you that.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t, Ms.,” he said gently. “I just… it’s very suspect to me, you know?” 

Sy let out a breath. “I get it.”

Another awkward silence filled the air before Codsworth blurted out. 

“You know! I’m sure you must be absolutely starving!” he exclaimed as he sped over to the door to their old house. “Not properly eating for 200 years must be wreaking havoc on your stomach, dear!” 

“Oh, no, I just had some breakf…” her voice trailed off and she stared at Codsworth, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. “200 years?” 

“Oh! A bit over 210, actually, Ms.,” the Mr. Handy chirped as he turned the handle to the door. “Give or take a little with the Earth’s rotation and some minor dings to the ol’ chronometer!” 

210 years… There was no way, right? Surely that wasn’t possible. There was no way she could’ve been asleep for that long and survived… right?

But with how aged everything looked… 

“God, you aren’t kidding, are you?” 

“Of course not!” he scoffed. “I may be old, but my systems are quite accurate!”

“That’s good to know,” Sy mumbled. Codsworth huffed to himself and drifted away from the door. 

“Well, since you’ve already eaten, I suppose there isn’t really much else to do,” he mumbled. “Except, well…” 

His voice trailed off as one of his eyestalks watched him open and shut his hand claw, before he trained all three eyes on her. 

“Do you even want to look for Shaun?” he asked somberly. 

Sy’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

Codsworth’s lenses readjusted, the clicks and whirs filling the momentary silence. 

“Look, I… I know the, the… circumstances of Shaun’s birth-” he fell silent as Sy fixed him with a glare. “I just…” 

“He’s an infant, Ms.. And we cared for him more than Nate ever did. Shaun’s my family, just like you are. It wouldn’t hurt to just try and see where he ended up, even if he isn’t alive in the end. It’s the least we could do for the child.” 

He drifted over and grasped her hand with his claw. “If not for you, could you at least do it for me?”

Her fingers squeezed around the metal. “If I can find anything, we can pursue it together. Okay?” 

The bot swayed from side to side slowly. “Alright,” he mumbled after a moment, seemingly pleased with the answer. “Alright!” He pulled away and twirled his claw. 

“Well, with that out of the way… umm.. Ms., may I... be allowed to accompany you? I’ve been feeling dreadfully lonely for the last two centuries.” 

“Oh, of course,” Sy said. “You know this place better than I do right now, and I’d love to have the company.” 

“Oh, thank heavens!” Codsworth cried out. “It’s been awful out here without you. I spent the first decade trying to keep the house clean while you were gone.”

He floated closer to her, his eyes right up in her face. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to polish a rusted car? Or dust a ruined house? It’s terrible. Terrible, I tell you!” 

“Okay, okay!” Sy said with a laugh. “You don’t need to fall into hysterics there, Codsworth. You’ve already convinced me.” 

“I tried to make friends with some of the people in Concord,” he continued, blatantly ignoring Sy. “but they -”

“There were people? In Concord?” Sy interrupted.

“Well, yes, but they were awfully rude. They tried hitting me with sticks,” Codsworth said dramatically. “Some even tried shooting at me!” 

Sy looked back to the window sill she had jumped in before, before quickly stepping back over and grabbing her pistol. She shoved it in her holster and hopped back out onto the street. 

“Oh, dear,” Codsworth cooed when he realized. “You aren’t actually going to go out there, are you? They could easily kill you!” 

“I have to try,” Sy said determinedly. “If we try and stay away from every person we meet, we won’t get anywhere in this new world.” 

Codsworth fidgeted before letting out an irritated huff. “Well... Alright, fine! But do please be careful, alright? It looked like there was quite the altercation taking place there before I left, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.” 

“Don’t worry, I will be,” she said. “Now let’s go!” 

She took off down the street with Codsworth in tow, who was begging for her to be careful on the bridge as she sprinted recklessly over the ancient timber. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. She wasn’t all alone. Codsworth was still here, and he didn’t seem keen on leaving her side. And if there was any piece of her old life that she’d hate to see gone, it was him. 

Now she just had to see what the rest of her world was like.


	5. An Eye For An Eye, Part 1

Sy had always been the adventurous type. She never was allowed to really go out and do her thing when she was older, but when she was a kid, she and her sister loved to explore the woods around her old house while her parents were out at work, or going shopping for things. They’d grab some sticks and pretend they were swords, and go out and duel with one another. Neither of them were ever seriously hurt, thankfully, but there was plenty of bruises and tears shed when one or the other got just a little too rough. 

Sy wondered how she would have fared in a place like this, as she stepped over the corpses of a man and what she was pretty sure was a dog of some sort. She pulled the crobar out of the dog-thing’s hairless hide and gave it a couple of test swings before dropping it on the ground beside her. She knelt over the corpse of the man and started looking through his pockets just as Codsworth caught up with her. 

“Ms.? What are you… oh my,” he murmured as he saw what she was doing. “That’s a little, um… you sure you want to be touching that? It’s rather messy.” 

Sy looked up to him and back down to the corpse in front of her. It was kind of gross, she wouldn’t lie. There was blood that was oozing out of some pretty serious bite marks all over the guy’s forearms and calves, and his clothes had all been ripped up and were full of dog-thing slobber. But truthfully, there were far worse things she could be sticking her hands in right about now.

“I mean, yeah, it pretty gross,” she admitted as she fumbled around with the chest pocket on his shirt. She felt something in there and pulled it out. It was a pouch full of… bottle caps? She placed it on the ground beside the crobar. “But it’s not like he’s going to be using any of his things anymore, right?”

She gave his cold face a poke or two, the flesh stiff and almost waxy feeling under her finger. She grimaced. Okay, that was pretty gross. “He’s kind of dead, you know.” 

Sy could hear the whir of Codsworth’s lenses readjusting and he sighed. “Right, right. You’re right. Just don’t go rolling about in the blood and gore, alright, my dear? You’ll reek.” 

Sy rolled her eyes. “Will do, Codsy. Will do.”

She finished looking through the man’s pockets and found nothing of note, with the exception of the bottle caps, some more bullets, and a gun of sorts. It looked like it was put together by hand, if Sy had to guess. Unfortunately, judging by the fact that the bullets looked a bit different from the ones she had for her pistol, she didn’t think she would be able to use them for her own gun. But, if she took this one with her… Or maybe she could sell them to someone? No, she didn’t have the room on her holster to take it with her… 

She set both the gun and the little ammo box down, deciding not to bother with either of them, before picking up the pouch of bottle caps and showing it to Codsworth. “Do you know what’s up with these?” 

He hummed in thought. “I have seen some people around with them from time to time, but to be quite truthful, I haven’t the faintest idea why they all have them. Perhaps they collect them as souvenirs?” 

Sy snorted and dropped the pouch on the ground. “Guess I won’t be needing them, then.”

She picked up the crowbar and slid the hook around her holster as she stood up from beside the corpse. She wanted to keep it in case things got hairy too close to her for her to use her gun. And, to be perfectly honest, she really didn’t want to use that gun unless she absolutely had to. It was like a loose cannon in her hands and she hated it. She had to wonder how people even used the damned things without shooting themselves on accident. She motioned Codsworth to follow her and they continued on their way down the road. 

Mist rose from the earth as the sun warmed the roads and grasses. Birds, while few, were chirping and flitting about. She spotted a crow or two in the trees, being the ominous, sassy little things that Sy always cherished them for. While it was still cold out, the sun warmed Sy’s skin through her vault suit as she carefully stepped over potholes and large cracks in the pavement. Codsworth flew over them without issue, which Sy was just a little jealous about. 

“The gas station is just up ahead, Ms.,” Codsworth said, breaking the rather comfortable silence that had grown between them. “I would be careful. There were some nasty little creatures romping about the place. Rats, I think.”

“What do you think we should do?” Sy asked. The bot arched his hand claw’s arm and jerked it upward - the Mr. Handy equivalent of a shrug, Sy has learned. 

“They were rather scared of me as I flew past - and rightly so - so I don’t think they’ll be a problem if we were to go past on the road.” He motioned to the woods. “But, should you feel unsafe even while I’m present, we can always take a detour through the woods and find the road again further along. The choice is yours, really. I’m happy with whatever decision you make. Within reason, of course.” 

Sy snorted and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the smile building up on her face. “I appreciate you letting me take the reins for this one, Codsworth.” 

“Oh, dear, no, that’s not what I-...” Codsworth started worriedly before stopping. “Ah, that… that was sarcasm, wasn’t it? My apologies, Ms. Dythuur. I’ve always had troubles picking that out of a conversation.”   
“It’s all good, Codsy,” Sy said gently as she gave one of the bot’s eyes a pat. “I know what you meant.”

She looked back down the road, to where she saw the quaint little Red Rocket. “Now, I say we just go past the gas station. It’s just some rats, after all. Can’t be that bad.” 

Codsworth’s hand claw twirled. “Very well, my dear. Past the gas station it is!” 

It was odd. The place looked empty, save for a few vacant holes in the ground, but she felt as though she was being watched by something. Codsworth seemed to feel the same way, because his eyestalks were instantly trained on anything and everything that moved. As they grew closer, Sy saw something coming out of one of the holes - they were burrow entrances, she realized. And whatever just came out of it did not look particularly nice. 

It wasn’t any bigger than a dog, but it still didn’t look like something Sy wanted to cross. It was pink and hairless, its skin wrinkled and leathery looking. It swung its massive head to and fro as it reared on its hind legs and smelt the air, its equally giant teeth glinting in the sun. A stumpy little tail wriggled against the dirt. After it determined no threats were around, it slowly wandered about the clearing. A few others emerged, too, after a short time. Some were grazing on some of the bushes at the clearing’s edge, while others were tending to the burrow entrances, or making new ones. A smaller one, likely a pup or some kind of youngin, wandered off, away from the group, and made its way towards Sy and Codsworth’s general direction. 

Something shot out of the bush in front of them at lightning speed, causing Sy to flinch. The brown and black blur rushed for the little one, which tried, in vain, to flee back to the safety of its burrow. Dust stirred up from the ground billowed about. The others took notice and shrieked before scrabbling into their holes, though the bigger ones kept their heads out of the burrow, prepared to defend from whatever threat fell upon them this time. As the dust cleared, the mystery killer was revealed to be a dog. 

Sy’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of such a beautiful animal. It was a German Shepherd, eyes bright as sunlight and fur as whole and well-kept as any dog’s was back in the day. Its tail wagged as it shook the pup in its jaws, before triumphantly trotting away from the clearing. It took notice of Sy and Codsworth and made its way over. Codsworth instinctively got in front of her. 

“Stay back, mutt!” he declared. The dog paused, its head tilting to the side in confusion. Sy huffed and stepped around the bot. He took notice of her and scoffed. “You don’t know if this thing has rabies! It could attack you! It could-”

“I think this one’s fine, Codsy,” she interjected, putting up a hand. “He looks friendly, and definitely doesn’t have rabies. Trust me, I know what rabies looks like.” 

The dog whimpered behind the pup in its mouth and wagged its tail. As she got closer, it lunged before scampering off, its movements bouncy and clearly playful. 

“Yeah, this guy’s definitely friendly,” Sy said with a chuckle. “Come back here, boy!” 

She gave chase, causing Codsworth to gasp and throttle after her. “Be careful, my dear!” he called after her. Sy giggled as she chased the dog up and down the road. The rats, still diligently guarding the entrance to their burrows, squawked and squealed, distressed by all the movement they saw around them.

It wasn’t long before she and the dog grew worn out from their playing around. She plopped down beside him as he laid down, the both of them panting heavily. They exchanged a glance, making Sy breathily chuckle and the dog to wag his tail. She pet him, then, causing the dog to look at her a little more head on. He didn’t seem bothered, really. More curious, if anything. Calculating. Taking note of what she was doing. As she kept petting him, he relaxed, and turned his attention to the dead rat-thing pup resting in front of him. 

As he ate, Sy got back up and gave the dog a few more pats. 

“It’s been fun, pup, but I gotta go,” she murmured. “Come on, Codsworth! We should keep going.” 

“Yes, Ms.! We shouldn’t delay any longer!” he said as he floated after her. 

They hadn’t gone even a few steps before the dog looked back, whimpering and barking at the pair. He got up, leaving his partially eaten kill in favor of travelling with his new found friends. 

“Aww, hon, we’ll be back, don’t worry!” she reassured him. “You enjoy your meal, okay?” 

He barked and paced around her. Sy glanced at Codsworth, who simply shrugged. 

“No? You wanna come with us?” Sy asked. The dog barked in confirmation. 

“Well, okay. If you insist.” 

~~

It was not too long after mid-day before the trio hit the outskirts of Concord. It was quiet where they were, but they could hear the gunshots going off from further in. Looks like Codsworth was right. There was some kind of fight going on here. The dog growled at the noises, but he didn’t run away. No, he stayed right with Sy and Codsworth, which made Sy rather proud of the pup. Whoever owned this dog must’ve trained him well for this sort of thing.

They moved carefully towards the inner parts of town and everybody kept their head, or eyestalks, on a swivel. The gunshots were a bit louder now, and they could hear people yelling. Sy pulled out the crowbar from her holster and readied it in her hands, Codsworth tested his hand saw and flamer, and Dogmeat bared his teeth as he trotted ahead. The other two followed suit and Sy quickly dove for cover behind a rusted out car.

They found themselves in the main street of Concord, the dead looking street forced to life by gunfire. There were sandbag walls and more rusty cars lining the street. Several people were huddled behind them, all peeking up and opening fire at the Freedom Museum, down at the end of the street. Red streaks of light beamed from the balcony of the place, hitting one of the people. They fell with a scream of agony as their flesh burned to the bone. Sy took this opportunity to move forward, as did the others. As they got closer, the yelling became more clear. Someone ordered to hold fire and the street fell silent for all but a moment.

“We ain’t gonna ask again, fucker!” a woman shouted from behind a sandbag wall. “Give us Mama Murphy, or we’re gonna make your life a livin’ fuckin’ hell!” 

“You’re lucky we’re even askin’ again after what you did to Carlos!” someone else screamed, their voice sounding raw with emotion. The moans of pain Sy heard from who she assumed was Carlos echoed through the otherwise silent street for emphasis.

“I’m sorry, but no!” The person on the balcony - a man, she realized - answered the people down below. “There’s no way in hell we’re going to let you take her. She’s an old woman, for Christ’s sake!”

“And we don’t give a fuck! Cough her up, let’s go!” the same woman from before shouted. “Else we’re gonna go in that fuckin’ building and take her from you!” 

The man did something with his gun and a red light grew forebodingly bright in the shadow of the balcony’s overhang. “It’s not happening. Not on my watch.” 

“Alright, then!” the woman barked. “Move out, boys and girls! It’s time we teach these fuckers a lesson!” 

A small group of people - a pair of fives, if Sy counted correctly - rushed the building, dodging the bright red beams of light as their comrades provided cover fire. Only one or two fell to the red beams, but most of them made it in. Sy turned to look back at Codsworth. 

“Sounds to me like those people out front are nothing but trouble,” she whispered. Her tone was steely and determined. “I say we help that guy up in the museum out. You with me?” 

“Oh, heavens, no!” he hissed. “Those are the people who were shooting at me before. They’ll kill you for sure!”

“But that guy needs help!” Sy said, desperate. “We can’t just leave him there all on his lonesome if we can do anything about it!” 

Codsworth huffed indignantly. “Fine! But don’t come crying to me when you’re all wounded and bleeding!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your figurative hair.” Sy said with a snort as she moved from her cover. The dog was already ahead of her, lunging for the closest person. They weren’t paying any attention at all to their surroundings except for the man on the balcony, which made it all the easier for him to sneak up on them. He’d bitten down on the person’s arm and shook, causing them to cry out and drop their gun on the ground with a clatter. Sy charged the person as they struggled to get out of the dog’s grip before raising the crowbar up and swinging it across as hard as she could. She felt it connect with the person’s skull and heard the sickening crack. They slumped down without another sound. Most of the others paid no attention to the noises behind them, as they were too focused on the man in the balcony, but one other turned to see what the commotion was about. 

They, too, were met with a crowbar to the skull before they even realized what was going on. The man up top seemed to take notice of the trio’s actions and had paused from firing for just a moment before training his gun back on the people shooting him. Sy hoped he knew they weren’t going to try and hurt him like those other people were as she rushed her next target. The people were beginning to realize that something was going on behind them, but the man on the balcony kept them conflicted on who to shoot. 

“Codsworth! Give that man a hand and get those guns off him!” Sy barked. 

“Yes, ma’am!” he responded as he swung his flamer arm to the front. It puffed to life with a concentrated blue flame as he weaved through the gaps of the walls and cars. As he neared a person, he ran the flame up the person’s back, lighting them ablaze. They screamed out in a panic and dropped their gun as they tried desperately to put out the flames. Their screams quickly turned to pain as they writhed on the ground. Codsworth simply floated over them, leaving them to burn, as he charged after the next person, who was shooting at him in vain. 

Sy took this time to rush forward again and made it to the last sandbag wall before the door to the museum. She glanced in front of her to the adjacent sand wall and saw the last person firing at the man on the balcony. They noticed her, too, and turned to shoot her instead, but found their gun - a rifle, Sy thought it was - suddenly out of their hands as the dog lept and grabbed it by the barrel with a snarl. The person cursed under their breath and grabbed something from their belt as they left their cover and went for her. Sy’s eyes widened as she realized it was a golf club.

Lord, she hoped those little stick sword duels she and her sister had when they were kids would help her now. 

She blocked their downward swing just in time and used the opening that made to swing for their sides. They cried out in pain and staggered back, one hand clutching at their now bloodied side as the other hand swung at her in defense. Sy tried to dodge, but was too slow. Pain lanced through her leg and she yelped, stumbling back and leaving herself wide open. The person laughed and grabbed the club with both hands, preparing for another killer downward swing. Was this seriously the only move they knew? Sy blocked the swing again, with a little more difficulty now with the throbbing in her leg. They pushed the club down and she pushed back in a desperate attempt to get them back in a decent hitting range. Sy then wrenched her crowbar to the side, catching the club in the crowbar’s hook and wrenching it from the person’s grasp. She sent it flying across the pavement and it landed with a clatter, too far away for them to reach.

Before they could retaliate, a bright red beam of light shot down from the balcony, hitting the person in the head. Sy could feel the heat coming off the beam as it landed, and felt something warm, wet, and sticky splatter her face and suit. She opened her eyes to see a headless corpse splayed in front of her feet, the fatal blow bleeding in some spots and completely cauterized in others. 

She didn’t have any time to really register what she saw, however, as the man on the balcony called down to her. “Hey! I don’t know who the hell you are, but you look like you could give us a hand! Grab a gun and get in here!” 

He suddenly turned to the door as if he heard a commotion from within. 

“And hurry!” he said before rushing back inside. 

Sy turned to look back at Codsworth and the dog. She grinned with excitement. 

“Let’s not keep him waiting, boys.”


	6. Eye For An Eye, Part 2

When the trio got inside the Museum of Freedom, it was chaos. Most of the people were clambering about both the lower level and the remains of the upper level, kicking down doors and shouting orders. Two people had been guarding the door when they got in, but were quickly dispatched by Sy and Codsworth. Codsworth and the dog barged ahead, but Sy struggled to keep up with them. Her leg was starting to bother her a little more now and she was still a little worn out from playing with the dog earlier, but she pressed on, riding the rush of adrenaline she felt course through her for all it was worth. 

One pair down. Three pairs to go. 

Sy had never actually fought someone before. Never had the courage to, even when she was spittin’ mad. It was terrifying now, seeing as how most of these people had guns, and she had her crowbar, but… the thrill of it… The charging head on at someone, watching their face grow panicked as she raised the bar and swung, the satisfaction of watching them fall… Sy felt horrible for thinking it, but she found herself living for this. She’d always wanted to do it but never could, until now. 

This was going to get addicting as hell very quickly, and Sy knew it. 

Codsworth seemed to be enjoying taking out the people who had shot at him before. He charged in with an almost unchallengeable zeal, shouting taunts at the top of his non-existent lungs as he recklessly swung his saw and flamer arms. Sy had to admit, she appreciated seeing him take out his anger, too. Even if that anger isn’t necessarily the same kind of anger she felt right now. Sy had a hunch it was likely similar, though. 

She yelped as she felt a searing pain lance through her left arm and dove behind a tipped over table. When she looked down, she saw her suit had been torn open along the arm and was already starting to ooze with blood. She growled under her breath and peaked over the table to see the person who shot her - the woman who’d been shouting before, she’s pretty sure, judging by her voice - come walking out into the open, straight towards the table Sy was hiding under. She ducked back under the table and clutched her crowbar.

“Come on out, vaulty,” she cooed, keeping her gun trained on the table. 

Vaulty? What did she mean, vaulty? Were there other people that came out of the vaults before her? 

“Come on out here, you little shit,” the woman said, her voice losing whatever scraps of gentleness that were there before. “I ain’t got all day.” 

Sy grinned to herself before launching herself over the table and, albeit unintentionally, right onto the woman’s shoulders. The woman shat herself and died. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works, Sy,” Hancock mused, sending her crashing out of the stupor she didn’t realize she was in. She looked around wildly, making the ghoul laugh to the point of wheezing. 

“Holy fuck,” she breathed hoarsely as she regained her bearings in the present world. She found herself in the Old State House, sprawled out one couch while Hancock was slouched in the other. The dimmer-than-usual lighting told her it was in the evening hours at this point. Her head began to swim as everything caught up with her and she fell limply back against the couch seat. Hancock’s laughter died down only a little as he noticed the state she was in.

“Holy shit, you were trippin’ like nothin’ else, weren’t you?” the ghoul said between fits of laughter. Sy tried to sit up again, but her body felt like it was weighed down with lead. Even moving her hand up to her face took a massive amount of effort. She palmed her good eye for a moment or two before weakly letting her arm fall above her head. She didn’t feel like moving it anymore. Or much of any other part of her body, for that matter. Her panicked waking had taken away all her energy. God, it was like she was actually there all over again. At least it was then and not before, she supposed. 

“How long was I... like that?” she slurred. God, her mouth felt dry as shit. She ran her tongue along the exposed teeth of the left side of her mouth, her mind focusing on her tongue feeling out the mangled remains of her lips on that side as Hancock hummed in thought. 

“Oh, good hour or so, I’d say,” he said as he grabbed a glass from the coffee table in front of him and took a sip. He grimaced before he continued. Must’ve been some booze, Sy thought to herself. “Though you’d been sittin’ there for a while before that, just totally spaced out. I asked you about the scars on your face and you just…” he gestured to her and chuckled. “Just started going off on a tangent. Fahrenheit got annoyed and left for checking up on the watch.” 

He sat forward with a knowing grin. “I told ya jet and mentats together hits like nothin’ else. Sometimes, I really think it brings out your past better than those thinkin’ pods in the Memory Den.” he scratched at his forehead, knocking his tricorn askew before he set it back in place. “Just gotta have a person listenin’ to ya, else nobody’s gonna remember shit.” 

Sy groaned and let her eye slide shut. The Memory Den was fucking awful. She didn’t want to be reminded of what she had to go through again. She didn’t want to think about that night. The yelling, the stuff being thrown, the hitting- 

“Hey, easy now, sister,” Hancock’s voice and hand on her forearm broke her out of the mini pit of hell she had momentarily sucked herself into. Her eye fluttered back open, and from her peripherals, she could see he had moved from his spot on the other couch so he could be by her side. “Maybe you oughta get some rest. I’m sure your mind is all over the place right now.”   
She swallowed. “I don’t…” Her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to find the words. “I don’t think being left to my own thoughts is a good idea right now.” 

She could feel Hancock’s thumb stroke the skin of her arm, the unusually warm and slightly rough feeling sending tingles through her body. Her nerves felt like they were on fire in contrast to her sluggish movements. “That’s fine,” he rasped with a soft smile. “We can sit and talk about something else, if you want. Maybe continue the story later, when you’re a little more clear-headed?” 

She blinked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, that… that sounds good.” Hancock smiled back at her and patted her arm before standing up. 

“Why don’t we get you set for bed, though, in case you fall asleep?” he asked, his brow furrowing in thought. “Jet-Tats can really tucker people out pretty fuckin’ hard after the trip ends, ‘specially for newbies.” He grabbed Sy’s trench coat and showed it to her. “You want your coat, or a blanket or somethin’? You’re feelin’ awfully cold.” 

“Mmm, blanket sounds good,” Sy mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear. He snorted and set her coat back on the couch arm. 

“Alright, lemme grab one. Sit tight, I’ll be right back,” he said as he walked out of the room. Sy focused on the sound of his footsteps echoing from across the hall in an effort to keep her thoughts from pulling her away from the present again. 

It was far more challenging than one would expect. Every little sound, every little flicker of light, every little prickle on her skin, triggered a memory she had to fight against to keep herself from flying away. She looked up at the ceiling and she was flooded with memories of the countless other times she’d done it before, crashing on people’s couches for a night or two while she tried to escape the hell she found herself in so long ago. 

Footsteps. Think about the footsteps. She focused her attention back at the sounds of Hancock shuffling about in another room. His bedroom, she figured. She heard something close - not a door, but a lid of some kind, she’s almost entirely certain - before the footsteps made their way back to the office room. 

She’d been focusing so much on the sound of his footsteps, she didn’t know he was back in the room until she felt something warm and surprisingly soft fall over her body. Her eye snapped open to see, as per her a request, a blanket was now coating her. It was a pretty thing, with deep red and black stripes. Sy would’ve thought it was of make from before the war, but she knew, even in her foggy state of mind, the wool threads were too new to be from back then. Hancock glanced back and noticed her staring dumbly at him and grinned. 

“Thank you,” she said after a moment, feeling heat rising up to her cheeks. His grin softened.

“It’s no problem, sister,” he said as he reached for the glass of booze on the table. “It gets drafty as hell in here, so having somethin’ to shield yourself from the breeze is a must, as far as I’m concerned.” He took another sip and cleared his throat as he set the glass back down. “You want anything else?” 

“Uhh,” her voice trailed off as she looked around. “No… No, I’m fine.”

“Alright, then,” Hancock said with a shrug as he made his way back to the couch opposite of hers. There was a beat of silence. “You know, I’d always been curious how you started out here.” He said as he sat down on the couch. “This, uh, definitely wasn’t the way I was expecting to get told, but…” he looked back up to her and smiled. “It’s nice bein’ able to hear it from you yourself. Lots of people like makin’ shit up.”

“Though I knew once you said that raider girl shit herself to death, things were gettin’ a little funky in the recollection process.” He finished with a smirk. 

Sy looked at him, her brows furrowing. “Did I say that?” 

Hancock chuckled. “Yeah, you sure did.” 

“Huh. Weird,” Sy said, more to herself than him as she looked back up to the ceiling. After a moment, she looked back at him again. “What else did I talk about?” 

“Only an incredibly detailed recounting of your first day or so outta the vault,” the ghoul said admiringly. “Which, I gotta say, for your first day out in the wastelands? I’m impressed. Vaulties that grew up after the bombs dropped don’t even live out the day in most cases. But here you are, a woman from before the war, coughed up 210 years later, right into the thick of things with no one to give you a hand. Kickin’ ass and takin’ names since day one.” He rested his chin in the palms of his hands. “Dare I say it, I’m damn proud of you.” 

Sy stared at him dumbly, her face growing as red as a tomato. “Th-thanks, Hancock.” 

She didn’t really understand why he was being so kind to her. They’d only known each other for a little over a month now, give or take a few days, and while they’d been through more together already than most folks she’s spent any time with, he’s been nothing but kind to her. Hell, he killed for her the first day she walked into the gates of Goodneighbor. She took him to Pickman’s and almost got him killed by both that crazy painter and the raiders trying to take him out, but he wasn’t mad at her for wanting him to come with her that second time she went there. But there was more to it than just that. Throughout her - oh, what was it… seven months now? - in the wastes, she’d always been met with patronizing or condescending tones by those who judged her for being from a vault. Everyone knew it, and everyone seemed to hold it against her, one way or another. 

But with Hancock… it was different. He kept her origins in mind, yes, but he never made it her entire existence. He didn’t see a vault dweller who didn’t know shit about fuck. He saw someone who was new, someone who was learning. It seemed, to him, she wasn’t all that different from an unusually sheltered child learning how to live out in the wastes. There was no anger, no impatience. He was kind to her in a way very few others were and it made her feel strange. Happy, almost. 

“You alright, sister? You were lookin’ a little spacy again.” Hancock’s voice broke her from her thoughts, causing her to twitch a little. 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Sy stumbled over her words. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got caught up in my thoughts again.” She laughed awkwardly. “Guess, uh… guess that’s what’s supposed to happen, though.” 

Hancock returned the laughter. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Hope the thoughts were good, though.” He grinned deviously. “Though judging by the look on your face, I’d say they must’ve been... something pretty enjoyable.” 

“I mean, I guess it was,” Sy said, puzzled. “I don’t know. Feelings are hard.” 

The ghoul paused and gave her a funny look before returning his attention to the glass that was part way at his ruined lips. He set the glass down and sighed, his brow furrowing as he watched whatever booze was in the glass sway back and forth. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I reckon they are,” he said quietly. 

“Do you have problems figuring out feelings, too?” Sy asked. Hancock glanced up at her, then back down to his drink. He finally shrugged. 

“I’ve always had problems figuring out what I was feeling,” Sy said as she tugged the blanket covering her under her chin. “It just… they mattered so little back then, so I didn’t bother to think on things much.” Her fingers ran back and forth along the blanket’s stitching. “Just… did what I was told and pushed down whatever kept me from doing it.” 

“Do you still feel like you have to do that?” Hancock asked, his voice sounding almost timid. Sy glanced at him before looking back up at the ceiling. 

“Not quite the same, no,” she murmured. “Though there are responsibilities from back then and now that have that same sort of…” she gestured to herself as she tried to find the word. “Sort of control.” 

“Yeah,” Hancock mumbled in acknowledgement as he took off his tricorn, set it on the coffee table, and laid down on the couch. “Yeah, I getcha.” 

Sy turned to look at him again. “What about you? You never gave me a proper answer.” 

“Oh, Christ, I don’t know,” Hancock said with a chuckle. “I mean… well - what do you mean by feelings? Like… feelings in general Bad feelings? Romantic? Sexual? What’re you after?” 

“Feelings in general.” 

“Well… hmm.” He scratched his cheek. “I mean... I guess there’ve been times where I’ve had to set feelings aside to get shit done, but I like to think I’ve always ran my life by my emotions. If I didn’t like something, I didn’t let it stay in my life for long, if it could be avoided.” He grinned to himself. “And if it couldn’t? I got the hell outta dodge. Ain’t gonna let nasty shit rule my life like that. I’m king of my own damned kingdom.” 

Sy smiled softly. “That’s very admirable, Hancock.” 

The ghoul snorted. “Yeah, but most folks don’t often take to that kind of honesty.” 

“Perhaps not,” Sy reasoned. “But if it makes you happier in the end, why should it affect them so negatively?” 

“Because sometimes, those folks can be family.” It sounded like he said that more to himself than her, and while it did catch Sy’s attention, she figured it was best not to touch it unless she knew he was willing to talk about it. She let the silence stretch for a while before she spoke up.

“Can I be honest with you, Hancock?” 

“Thought you already were with me.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Fire away, sister.” 

She fiddled with the hem of the blanket. “I’d love to have that kind of courage to just up and run away from a situation I didn’t want to be in anymore. I never had the guts to do it.” She frowned and fought the lump building up in her throat. “I was so close to doing it once. So fucking close. But then… then the apocalypse did it for me, in a way.” Her breath hitched. “The things I would’ve done had the bombs not dropped…” 

She hid her face under the blanket as her composure fell to pieces. She didn’t want him to see her like this. So… vulnerable. And she certainly didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but she couldn’t fight it even if she wanted to. Her body racked with sobs as she weakly tried to wipe the tears streaming down her face. She heard Hancock get up from the couch and she hid herself further, wanting nothing more than to disappear. She didn’t want people to worry about her. She didn’t deserve it and she knew it. 

“Oh, no-... Sy, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” 

She wasn’t special. 

“We can talk about something else, okay? I didn’t… I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t deserve to be pampered. 

She was nothing. Just a number. Just someone to command. 

She felt him tug at the blanket and she turned on her side to face the couch. He didn’t need to see her like this. She’ll just cry it out like she normally does and she’ll be just fine. It was fine. Right? It’s what she usually did. She felt his hand rest on her shoulder. 

Just then, she thought she heard the door open, but didn’t dare look and make even more things about herself. Heard Hancock say something to someone in a hushed but stern tone, but his hand never left. The door closed and whoever he was talking to assumably left. Sy took a small comfort in him making sure no one saw her like this, despite the guilt she felt for doing it. He was making a big deal out of nothing for her and it made her feel awful.

“I’m sorry about that, love. Fahr just got back from the rounds.” She felt his hand drift down and stroke her back, and she had to resist the urge to melt into it. It was a gentle touch. Very warm, too. Hancock said it was something about the radiation making him “run a bit hotter” than the average person. Made her think the time when she had to patch up Hancock’s arm while they were trapped in Pickman’s… Oh, Christ, that was all her fault, too. She still didn’t get why he forgave her for that. She felt Hancock’s hand leave her side and had to stop herself from turning and looking back at him. She felt him tug at the blanket, gently working it out of the bunch she had in front of her face so she was fully covered again. He was saying something, but she didn’t feel like listening. She was getting tired all of a sudden. Very tired. 

~~ 

Sy didn’t remember when she fell asleep. She remembered Hancock trying to talk to her, and crying about something, but after that? There was nothing but darkness. 

But there was, however, the man on the balcony. Preston, she learned his name was. Then there was Sturges, a man with a cool hair do and a knack for tinkering with machinery. Jun and Marcy Long, a couple, or siblings, or something - she couldn’t remember - who seemed to both be mourning. Though Jun just kept to himself, Marcy was verbally all up in arms at all times. Made Sy a bit nervous, if she were to be completely honest. 

And then there was Mama Murphy. A strange old woman, that one. When Sy, Codsworth, and the dog - who she learned from Murphy was named Dogmeat - got there, she was rambling about some vision she got. The moment she laid eyes on Sy, she beckoned her closer and spoke of rather strange things. A green jewel, a heart, some creature being drawn to the noise of the fight in town. 

“I… Oh, God… It’s horrible, kid,” the old woman murmured, the faraway look in her eyes almost painful. “The claws, the teeth, the… the horns. The face of death itself is comin’ right for us all.” 

Murphy looked in her direction, but seemed to stare right past her. “At… at this monster’s talons, you’re gonna… make a great sacrifice for your first step to freedom…” 

Sy didn’t know what that meant at the time, but as she watched and felt herself step into that power armor, rip off the minigun from that vertbird in the roof, and come crashing down back onto the road just as another wave of raiders came rushing in… She wasn’t sure she would’ve wanted to. 

She felt the rush of adrenaline and heard herself laughing maniacally as she rained metal hell on the raiders. They tried valiantly to fight her, but it was beyond a wasted effort. They fell away, one by one, but one managed to get away. She let them go. She felt she could afford to be careless then. 

The last thing she could remember clearly from that night was something huge bursting through the sewer gate down the street. It was all a massive blur… and it was coming right for her. 

Beyond then, it was like a dream in wakefulness. Something she couldn’t quite remember, but still knew it had happened. But now, in the realm of dreams to begin with? Now she could feel it all in detail. The creature barreled into her, knocking the minigun out of her hands and sending her sprawling against the pavement. She could feel the creature ripping her helmet off and cutting up her cheek. She watched as it flicked its tongue against the wound, smelling and tasting her blood. She hoped that if she played dead, it might leave her alone, like it did the raider corpses scattered on the ground. She realized the move was pointless as the beast hissed before lifting its claw and swiping down. 

God, it tore through her so effortlessly. Everything seemed to slow down impossibly slow as the creature brought its claws to her face. It started at the top of her head, its claws scraping against the bone of her skull and tearing out her hair as it made its way down. She felt her eyelid tear and her eyeball get pushed far into its socket before the pressure made her eye finally buckle and pop. The claws continued further, gouging her other cheek and ripping the left side of her mouth open before finally, finally ending its assault at her chin. 

She screamed. God, she screamed so fucking much. The pain was unimaginable, unthinkable. But she couldn’t think of anything else, even as the beast tasted the welling blood that threatened to drown her in the position she was in. She couldn’t move, couldn’t flip over. All she could do was cough and spit, and scream. It was hopeless, and it was foolish of her to think it, but she hoped someone heard her. Hoped someone could do something as her head began to swim and the world started going dark. 

She didn’t deserve it, but it was a comforting thought.


	7. Ask Meme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sy answers some questions people have for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Sy, post-Nuka-Time. Little bit of a jump from where Sy's at, at the time this has been posted, haha.
> 
> Basically, someone did one of these and posted it on Discord. I asked them if they'd be okay if I did this for Sy, and they said it was fine. So i diddly done did the thing. 
> 
> Obviously there are some minor spoilers to how her story plays out, but there's a few things here and there that I was able to keep secret. Not to mention a couple of the short stories I have in here do have some minor spoilers, too, but... i'unno.

1\. What is your name? 

Sy smiled to herself. “My name is Sytaarus Dythuur. Though most people just call me Sy.” She shrugged and chuckled. “I know it’s a bit of an odd name, but… it’s the one I got. I’m not going to be changing that for the world.”

(Sytaarus Dythuur: Sit-ARE-us DIE-thoor) (Sy = Sigh)

 

2\. How old are you? 

Sy’s brow furrowed as she thought. Her left brow hardly moved because of her facial scars while the other one moved just fine. “Hmm… 34? 35?” She shrugged. “Somewhere around there, I think. Years kind of got lost on me as of late.” 

 

3\. What do you look like? 

Sy looked at you confusedly. “I…” Her mouth closed - or at least closed as much as it could - before opening again. “Ah! I should’ve realized you can’t see me.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry about that.”

She looked at herself for a moment and cleared her throat. “Well, I have kinda reddish brown hair. It’s really poofy. Cut it recently. Looks fly as fuck.” She ran a hand through it. “Umm… I have a fucked up face? Or, like… fucked up remains of a face. Pretty rad. Got it all ripped off by a deathclaw. That was fun.” She sighed, looking distinctly uncomfortable for a moment before deciding to continue onto the next subject. “I have blue hazel eyes - well, eye. My other eye likes to change colors whenever I feel like it.” She smirked. “And I’m really short. Shorter than Hancock, and he’s tiny.” 

 

4\. Where are you from? Where do you live now? 

“Oh, I’ve always lived around here,” Sy chirped. “Or, well… I’ve always lived in the Massachusetts area. Boston and the area around it has been a fairly, uh…” she moved her hand in a circular motion as she searched for the word. “A recent affair.”

 

5\. What was your childhood like? 

Sy blinked and looked down. “Uhhh…” she laughed awkwardly. “Think that’s all I’m willing to say about that.” 

 

6\. What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions? 

Sy smiled. “I work with the Minutemen with some things, though I’m mostly in on Nuka-World at the moment. The Pack and Operators are my crazy little raider children, and I love them both, but the Pack?” Her smile widened. “They’re just the fuckin’ coolest, dude. They treat you like family, they can provide for themselves and others with all the cool shit they do. And they have so many animals!” 

 

7\. Tell me about your best friend. 

Sy giggled. “She’s super big and scaly, and she’s got really big horns and claws and teeth. Her name’s Snuffles. She’s a deathclaw, if you weren’t able to tell from the description.” She beamed proudly. “She’s very smart. I’m a very proud mother.” 

 

8\. Do you have a family? Tell me about them! 

Sy’s smile fell away. “If you’re asking about my actual parents and shit, you can forget it.” She looked down and sighed. “But if you want to know about my family here, then…” 

She looked up. “Well, there’s Nick Valentine. He’s pretty much my dad now. I talk to him about just about anything that I need advice on. There’s Codsworth. Snuffles, as I’ve mentioned before. And all the rest of my deathclaws. Yeah. Each and every one of them.” She scratched her chin. “Preston’s always been like a brother to me. Deacon is… I don’t know what Deacon is.” 

She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I’unno.”

 

9\. What about a partner or partners? 

Sy smiled softly. “Partners. Two big ol’ dorks. One of ‘em’s the mayor of Goodneighbor, Hancock.” She sighed. “Then there’s the second in command at Nuka-World, Gage. Good ol’ Porter Gage.” She looked down and fidgeted with her hands, her smile widening. “I don’t know how I managed to get this lucky…” 

 

10\. Who are your enemies, and why?

“Dead,” she said simply. “Because I don’t have the patience to play nice anymore and killed them.” 

 

11\. Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them? 

Sy smirked. “You’ll find out soon enough. Just head over to the airport and have a good look around.” 

 

12\. What about The Enclave? 

Sy frowned. “Can’t say I ever heard of them before, I don’t think. Raider gang? Gunner thing?” Her frown deepened. “Sounds like a gunner thing.”

 

13\. How do you feel about Super Mutants? 

Sy snorted. “Very tasteful decorators. Good and strong, too. Fun to fight melee style.” 

 

14\. What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in? 

“Oh, christ, don’t make me choose!” Sy pleaded. She looked around in thought before grinning. “They’re all my favorite. A-HA. You can’t make me choose now.” 

 

15\. Have you ever fought a Deathclaw? 

Sy gestured to her mangled face but said nothing. 

 

16\. Do you like fighting? 

“Uh, yeah?” Sy said, genuinely confused that you’d ask such a question. “Jamming my bayonet in someone’s gut after charging at them like a maniac is my favorite thing to do. Like, ever. Seriously, you should see the look on people’s faces when I do that. Look like they’re about to shit themselves.” She laughed. “I think a few of them have, too.”

 

17\. What’s your weapon of choice? 

Sy pulled out her bayoneted combat shotgun and proudly presented it to you. “This is my wife. I will never part from her, not ever. She’s beautiful and I’m madly in love. We kill all sorts of things together. It’s amazing.” 

 

18\. How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?) 

Sy rubbed her chin in thought. “Well, I do like swirlin’ my way about with words. Do like being as in tune with animals as I am, too. And I guess being as enduring as I am helps, too. But y’know. Only a little.” 

 

19\. Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them? 

Sy blinked. “I’ve looted a few vaults before. They’re all pretty fucked up places if you ask me. Those experiments they had people go through… disgusting.” 

 

20\. How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you? 

Sy pouted her lips in a playful manner. “I’ll never tell! It’s a secwet.”

 

21\. What’s your favorite wasteland critter? 

“Deathclaws!” 

 

22\. What’s your least favorite wasteland critter? 

“Bloodbugs. Fuck bloodbugs.” 

 

23\. How do you feel about robots? 

“I think they’re really neat,” Sy murmured. “They can be so simple, or so complex. They can even be their own being if they want to. I’ve never had an issue with robots. It’s their creators that can be a problem.”

 

24\. How many caps do you have on you right now? 

Sy rolled her eye. “I have literally no idea. Why would you ask the person who can’t count how many caps they have? I’d ask you to count ‘em if you really wanna know that bad, but that’s weird, and I’ve come to learn it’s best not to trust people like that. No offense or anything.” 

 

25\. Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla? 

Sy shrugged. “Never heard of that second one, so Nuka-Cola. Would probably be Nuka-Cola either way.” 

 

26\. Do you do chems? 

Sy forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I used to. Gage got me off that shit, though.” She grinned. “Now I just smoke cigs and weed.” 

 

27\. Do you ever think about the Pre-War world? 

Sy pursed her lips. “I used to. Don’t think it’s worth thinkin’ about anymore.” 

 

28\. What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently? 

Sy’s brows knit together. “Where do I even start?” 

 

29\. What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve? 

“Getting Nuka-World up and running like I got it is something I’m definitely proud of,” Sy said thoughtfully. “Also super proud of how many bottle caps I was able to stack on Gage’s forehead before he woke up from a nap.” She laughed. “Hancock told me it was 27. 27 whole god damned bottle caps!” 

 

30\. What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

“For me, I just want to be happy. I want to be able to live my life as myself. Don’t want assholes tellin’ me how to run shit for the sake of trying to tell me what to do. You got a valid reason for it, then by all means. But if you’re just going to sit there and control me…” 

“For my friends? Well… honestly I just want people to stop being so fucked up. Quit abusing. Quit trafficking. Quit enslaving. That goes for just, kind of, like… everything. Not just my friends. My friends aren’t like that. Well, not that bad. They got their own issues, but we’re workin’ em out, y’know?”


	8. Welcome To The Neighborhood

The light of the late morning sun filtered through the streets of Goodneighbor. People of all walks of life milled about the bustling little town, gazing at the shopkeepers’ inventories or working on keeping the streets at least somewhat clean. The Neighborhood Watch, clad in their typical, damn near mafia style suits and hats, guarded the streets and kept the peace as they were paid to do. Even from outside, the sound of a woman singing could be heard echoing from the Third Rail underground.

“Enjoying your people watching there, Hancock?” a woman asked the ghoul beside her. His onyx eyes flicked over to her as he took a drag on his cigarette and smirked.

“What can I say, Fahrenheit? There’s plenty of fun shit to look at.” He glanced down the street and saw a drifter in rather… suggestive garb vying to get his attention. When she saw him looking at her, she winked and blew a kiss at him, causing him to chuckle and wink back before she sauntered off. He got a good look at her as she left before he turned his attention back to Fahrenheit. Yup, plenty of fun shit, alright.

His loyal bodyguard snorted and rolled her eyes, making Hancock laugh. She didn’t even have to look to know; that same drifter had been trying to get in his pants for the last couple of weeks now. The mayor was in the midst of his favorite song and dance, filled with flirting and teasing until one or the other caved for a fun night in the State House. It was nothing new to damn near anybody in town, save for passersby or newcomers, but it was still fun no matter how many times it happened.

At least it was for them, anyway.

Before he could think on that further, a commotion near the entrance to town caught his attention. Fahrenheit must have seen it before him, as she had already started moving to get in front of him and had her hand at the shotgun strapped to her hip. Good old Fahr, making sure he was safe. The two Neighborhood Watch stationed by the Statehouse door had also gotten in front of him to see the commotion for themselves. Hancock huffed as he got on his tippy toes to look over the peoples’ shoulders, but to no avail.

“Come on, move. I gotta see what’s going on,” he hissed to the Watchmen. They glanced behind themselves and quickly got out of the way as they realized who was there.

“Sorry, Mayor,” one of them murmured as he moved past.

He waved a hand at them dismissively. “No biggy.”

As he and Fahrenheit made their way to the marketplace entrance of Goodneighbor, Hancock couldn’t help but let out an annoyed sigh. Finn again, with his insurance spiel. Of course. He was harassing somebody into giving him money for “protection” again. He couldn’t tell who the somebody was, though they were definitely new. They had one of those assault gas masks - painted to look a bit like the face of a deathclaw or a dragon, or something - with the hood up, and a trench coat that was very much too big for their tiny frame. Whatever they had underneath that was zipped down their chest a fair ways, hiding the fabric under the coat, save for a miniscule strip of gold and blue. Their legs were bare, but covered in feral ghoul bites that looked like they were still in the process of healing. Hancock winced. They were probably seeking shelter here and the first welcome they get is some asshole trying to extort them.

“You want me to take care of this, Mayor?” Fahrenheit whispered, glancing down at him.

The ghoul shook his head. He was getting real sick of Finn’s shit. He was new - only been around Goodneighbor for a few months - but has been walking around town like he had the big stomping boots on since day one. Spouted off about some crazy woman who killed all his old raider friends before he found himself out here and decided the way to get the upper hand was to extort newcomers to “protect the regulars”. Hancock wasn’t about that shit whatsoever, as Goodneighbor was supposed to open to everyone, after all. The mayor took one last drag on his cigarette before dropping the butt on the ground and stamping it out. Reckon he ought to make a show of this in case anybody else decides to pull this kind of shady shit in his town. The people had to know he was still down for getting dirty. In the killin’ kind of way, not the fun kind. Though the killing kind was fun, too.

“Everything alright over here, you two?” Hancock called out as he stepped into the open. Finn whipped around at the sound of his voice, but the newcomer simply turned to look at him in silence as he sauntered over to Finn’s side.

“Hey there, newbie,” Hancock said again in a quieter, friendly tone as he put an arm on Finn’s shoulder, silently thanking whatever higher powers were out there for making Finn be roughly the same height as himself so he could pull that little move off. “Hope ol’ Finn here ain’t givin’ you any trouble?”

He could feel Finn tense up beside him. Good, good. Make him squirm for being a dumbass. Make him squirm for getting caught.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” the person - a woman, Hancock realized - said. Her voice seemed slurred, like she had something wrong with her mouth. It could’ve just been the gas mask making her sound like that, though. Hancock couldn’t really be sure.

“Well, that’s good! I don’t think Finn would give you much shit, anyway,” Hancock said with a grin as he patted the man’s arm. “He’s a real big softy when he knows he’s crossed a line.” Hancock turned to pointedly glare at the man in question. “Ain’t that right, Finn?”

Finn gave the mayor a sidelong glance before putting on a brave face and furrowing his brow. “How am I crossing a line?”

Oh, we’re going that direction again, are we? Better nip that in the ass.

“Don’t play stupid with me, Finn,” Hancock growled, the friendly grin he bore before gone in a flash. “I know you were trying to hassle ‘em. Saw it and heard it myself.” He pulled away from Finn and rounded on him. “And I also know I told you to lay off that extortion shit.”

“Why do you care? She ain’t one of us.” Finn said as he crossed his arms. Hancock tilted his head with a small smile.

“No love for your mayor, Finn?” He asked. The smile fell away. “I said let her go.”

“Don’t worry about me, sir,” the woman chimed in with a determined tone, causing both Finn and Hancock to look back at her. “He causes me more trouble, I’ll take care of him myself.”

A display of dominance, eh? He liked this mystery woman already. He still had to handle this one, though.

“Oh, and what are you gonna do to me, you fuckin’ twig?” Finn said with a snort.

“Mind your fuckin’ tone, Finn,” Hancock snarled. Finn looked at him incredulously and shook his head. The marketplace had gone completely silent now, and all eyes were focused on the trio in the center.

“You’re gettin’ real soft, Hancock,” he murmured with disdain. “You keep lettin’ outsiders walk all over you, one day there’ll be a new mayor.”

“That so?” Hancock said stonily. “You realize this is me we’re talkin’ about?”

“I know damn well who the fuck I’m talkin’ to.”

“Um, sir,” the woman said again. “Really, it’s fine. I can deal with this myself.” He glanced back at her and noticed one of her hands fidgeting with the belt of her trench coat while the other had reached inside. Probably grabbing some heat in case shit hit the fan. Could be a bit more subtle with it, but that’s alright. Plenty of other people ready to fill this guy with lead if he tried anything, including Hancock himself.

“No, this ain’t your problem anymore,” the mayor said sternly. “It’s mine.”

“No, no, let the lady talk,” Finn said with a devilish grin. “I wanna see her try and fuckin’ take me.”

Hancock looked to the woman worriedly. Finn wasn’t all talk; he’d helped keep all sorts of nasty shit away from Goodneighbor’s gates on more than one occasion, and did a damn good job of it, too. He didn’t want any more blood being shed than necessary. This newcomer was injured, and didn’t need nor deserve to get hurt.

Finn on the other hand? He needed to be taught a lesson.

“So. Your name is Finn, yes?” the woman asked.

“The fuck’s it matter to you?” the man said irritably. The woman said nothing for a moment before pulling out a yellow crowbar from her trench coat, coated in dried blood and old bits of flesh. As the stick of metal revealed itself, Finn’s eyes went as wide as dinnerplates and he grabbed the gun from his holster. As he grabbed his gun, Fahr and the watchmen trained their weaponry on him, causing him to freeze. Finn trained his shoddy little pipe pistol right at her head, though his aim was shaky as his body trembled almost uncontrollably. She tensed at the gun trained on her, but didn’t stand down whatsoever. Hancock was rather surprised.

“I-It can’t be you… you died!” he stuttered. “I… I-I fuckin’ saw you get ripped apart! I saw it!”

“That would be wrong, Mr. Finn,” the woman murmured. “I lived.”

With damn near lightning speed, the woman swung the crowbar and hit Finn’s hand, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his gun. Hancock cocked a brow as Finn frantically stumbled backwards until his back hit the brick wall behind him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Finn in such a state before. The guy honestly looked like he was about to piss himself. That would be funny, but he needed to know why the fuck he was freaking out so bad in the first place.

“Hancock, you gotta get her the fuck out of this goddamn town!” Finn shouted. “That’s the lady I was talkin’ about! That fuckin’ freak of a vault dweller!”

Hancock looked back at the woman in shock, who had looked to him in turn but said nothing. Guess he’d gotten his answer. “No shit?”

“No fuckin’ shit!” Finn practically screamed. “That’s her!”

Wow. He didn’t think he’d ever meet her. Couldn’t tell it was a vaulty since she didn’t have a Pip-Boy on her, though that bit of her suit poking out of her trench coat should’ve been a dead giveaway. The crows that had gathered around to watch gasped and delved into a fit of whispers at the news, and Hancock didn’t blame them. He’d heard the stories from raider caravans that came through, same as everyone else. Always talkin’ about some crazy woman in a vault suit that damn near single handedly wiped out a raider group that’d been going after some refugees in Concord, or a ruthless phantom stalking around Lexington, killing whoever she came across without abandon before disappearing from the town altogether. Got mentioned on the radio every other fuckin’ day ever since someone first found out that vault out in the countryside - what was it, 111? - opened for the first time. Hell, even those dinky little city gangs full of chemmed out fuckheads talked about her taking their friends out once in a blue moon, too. She was the boogeyman as far as those assholes went.

Hancock could use a boogeyman.

“She ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Finn looked at him like he had bugs crawling out of his ears. “Are you fucking insane?! She’ll kill all of us!”

“I can promise you that I won’t,” the woman said in amusement. “I have standards. I only take out the people that earned a crowbar to the skull.” She looked around at the still growing audience before she looked back at Hancock. “I’m real sorry for causing issues so soon, though. I-”

“You better fuckin’ go, you freak!” Finn blurted as he foolishly bolted for his gun on the ground. “Or I’ll take you the fuck out myse-”

His voice quickly delved into a drowned gurgle as he found Hancock’s knife suddenly lodged in his throat. Blood began to well around the blade and ooze down Finn’s neck, staining his leather jacket and undershirt as he stumbled back and clutched at his throat. As he fell to the ground, Hancock pulled the knife from its mark and stepped aside to dodge the spurts of blood gushing from the wound in one smooth motion. He’d had quite a bit enough of that shithead’s babbling, if he were to be perfectly honest. Once Finn was down, most people cleared out, though a few stuck around to get a good look at the vault dweller before taking their leave as well. Most everybody just wanted a good show, if nothing else, and he delivered. As did the woman, though she didn’t need to do much other than just stand there.

Hancock sighed and turned back to see the woman staring at him intently - or at least he thought she was. It was hard to tell with that mask on her. She didn’t seem bothered by him being a ghoul, as far as he could tell. That was a pleasant surprise. Most vault dwellers - hell, even people born into the wastes - were either hateful or afraid of them. Especially after a run in with ferals, like the mystery woman had the misfortune to experience.

“I, um, thank you, Mr…”

“Hancock,” the mayor murmured. “Name’s Hancock.”

“Mr. Hancock,” she finished. “I’m awful sorry for causing such a ruckus. If you want me to go, I can…”

“No, no, you can stay if you’d like. I’m not gonna stop you,” Hancock rasped. “Just as long as you don’t go causing trouble around my town. Alright?”

“Oh… really?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He could barely hear it through the mask.

“Yes, really,” he said with a smirk. She fidgeted with her hands and looked down at them.

“Thank you, Mr. Hancock. It’s much appreciated.”

“No problem, sister. Everyone’s welcome here.”

“I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into here, Mayor,” Fahrenheit’s voice made both Hancock and the woman jump. Christ, he didn’t even hear her coming… He was lucky he didn’t cut himself, as he’d started cleaning his blade. His trusty bodyguard jerked her head in the vault dweller’s direction. “She’s got a hell of a reputation.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ms.! I’m not a complete sociopath,” the vault dweller said with an awkward chuckle. “I have standards. Only people who earned the crowbar get the crowbar.”

Fahrenheit cocked an eyebrow and snorted. “Right.” She turned her attention back to Hancock. “I’ll go get someone to clear out this mess.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Hancock murmured as Fahrenheit skulked off. After she left, he put his now mostly clean knife back in his coat pocket. “Sorry about that. Fahr can be a little… uh, cold, sometimes.”

“That’s alright,” the woman said sheepishly. “I s’pose I earned it if my name has already made its way here.”

“I don’t think I ever got your name, actually,” Hancock drawled as he pulled out his carton of cigarettes and lit one up.

“Sytaarus. My name is Sytaarus.”

Sytaarus. Hancock rolled the name around in his head for a moment or two. It was an odd name to be sure, but strangely pretty. Mysterious, exotic. Sounded like something right out of a Grognak comic, or some medieval fantasy themed thing. Kind of fitting, with the dragon face painted over the gas mask. He liked it.

“Well, Sytaarus,” the ghoul rasped. “If you’re still lookin’ for a place to stay, I can give you a lil tour of the town, let you get to know the neighborhood.” And vice versa, he added mentally.

“Oh, that’s okay. I can take a look around on my own time,” Sytaarus said as she waved a hand dismissively towards him. “You’re the mayor, yeah? You probably have stuff you gotta do…?”

“Not really, at the moment,” Hancock responded. He wasn’t lying - there wasn’t much of anything he had to do that he could talk about in public. Just getting trade agreement paperwork signed through Bunker Hill for the autumn and winter season that was soon approaching. There were some… other things that he could start working on, but it could wait until Sytaarus was settled in before he did anything with that.

“Well, if I’m not taking up any important time, then… sure. I’d be down for a tour of the town,” Sytaarus said, leaving the spot she’d been awkwardly standing in all that time. She was hobbling a bit, but not as bad as Hancock was expecting her to. Those feral bites on her legs must not have been giving her too much trouble, though they still should be looked at, at some point. He would have said something to her, but he didn’t want to risk the wrong ears hearing her being hurt and decide she’d be easy pickings. And there was a lot of wrong ears about the place these days, hiding in the alleyways and unlit streets. Some were even getting bold enough to move in plain sight, like Finn.

“First thing’s first: the marketplace,” Hancock started, pushing those troubling thoughts away as he gestured to the two shops in front of them with a grin. “You could find damn near anything you wanted here.”

He and Sytaarus walked up to the shop on the right; a little general needs shop run by a ghoul woman who smiled and waved when she took notice of Hancock.

“Hey there, Mr. Mayor,” she rasped cheerfully. “Showing our new visitor here around?”

“Sure am,” Hancock responded. He glanced over to Sytaarus. “Daisy’s your girl if you need anything. And I mean anything.” He leaned against the counter and looked around inside her quaint little shop. He noted just how little she actually had in stock and had to keep himself from frowning. Caravans hadn’t been stopping in as much since the routes to Goodneighbor weren’t as safe as they used to be, so supplies were starting to grow thin.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “I’d say she’s got everything but the kitchen sink, but I think she’s actually got one in stock somewhere around here.”

Daisy snorted and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t today. Maybe next week when the caravans come in. I’ll be sure to put it on hold for you if they bring one.”

God, he hoped they came in next week. There’ll be a fucking riot if they don’t show.

Hancock snorted back. “Much appreciated, Daisy.”

“Not a problem, Hancock,” Daisy said before glancing over at Sytaarus. “You need anything, you come on over to Daisy’s Discounts. You won’t believe what’s in the ‘Is It Food Or Not?’ section today.”

Sytaarus giggled at that, the soft sound making Hancock glance over in surprise. “I’ll be sure to do that once I get settled in, Ms. Daisy.”

Daisy smiled back at her, polite but guarded, before Hancock motioned for Sytaarus to come with him. They moved over to the shop on the left, whose counters and shelves - hell, even the signs - were full of firearms and other weaponry of all shapes and sizes. The caravans knew better than to skimp out on outfitting the weapon vendor’s stock, and for very good reason.

“And this here is KLEO,” Hancock declared. “She’s your girl if you need anything and everything weaponry.”

“Damn right I am, baby,” the assaultron in question purred. “Anything you could ever want to kill someone with can be found right in my store. Except suicidal depression. That’s unfortunately unpackageable.” She turned and looked at Sy, who flinched a little under her… rather intimidating gaze.

“Wha… What are you?” Sy stuttered. “I-I mean, like, - I’m sorry - I don’t mean that rudely, I just, I’ve never seen anything like you before…”

“I’m a woman, baby. Haven’t you ever seen a woman before?” KLEO asked. Sy hesitated before slowly nodding, and Hancock had to stifle a laugh. It was always entertaining to see new folks interacting with KLEO for the first time. No matter how many people met her, no one knew how to react to her. Though Sy was playing along, which is generally the better thing to do than calling KLEO out. He’d seen the outcomes of that and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant sight.

“But enough about me, doll,” KLEO murmured as she leaned against the counter. “I want to talk about you.”

“What about me?” Sy queried. KLEO chuckled.

“Baby, just about everybody knows about you. Knows just what you’re about. And the things you’re about?” The assaultron leaned further forward until she and Sy were almost face to face and her voice dropped down to a lusty growl. “They’re the things I’m about, too.”

Christ, Hancock wasn’t sure he’d seen KLEO gunning for someone like this before.

“You’re a celebrity, doll. And you’ve got a bite to that bark. So I know if anybody’s going to put my products to good use, it’s you.”

“I, uh,” Sy started, though her voice quickly trailed off. She fell silent.

“Don’t need to say anything, baby,” KLEO purred. “Get settled in, make yourself at home in the neighborhood. You’ll know where to find me when you’re ready to take things all the way.”

Sy stuttered something incomprehensible in return before brushing past Hancock, who couldn’t help but chuckle. He didn’t even need to see her face to know how flustered she was feeling right now. Not that he even could see her face, but… still.

Actually… had anyone ever seen her face before?

“Is… is she like that with everybody?” Sy asked quietly. Hancock smirked.

“Yeah, but she was gettin’ real hot and bothered over you,” he said. “Even for her, that was a bit, uh… heavy handed. You must be pret-ty special if she wants you so damned bad.”

Sy shook her head, more to herself than Hancock. “Wants me for what? Do I even want to know?”

“With KLEO? It could really be a lot of different things.”

“That’s… cryptic, but okay. I’ll take it, I guess.”

“There’s plenty of cryptic characters around the neighborhood, sister. You’ll get used to it.” He jabbed a thumb at Fahrenheit with a grin, who was just walking past with a couple of Neighborhood Watch in tow. “Like that one right there. She’s a real freak.”

“Okay, Mr. Diehard History Nerd,” Fahr called over her shoulder with a straight face as she went into the Statehouse, causing Hancock to snicker. The Watch that followed her continued into the market square, likely to clean up Finn’s body. That was good. Better to get that cleared out before the sight and smell brought in too many scavengers looking for a meal. Or loot. Or both.

“See that building she went into?” Hancock asked Sy. She nodded.

“That’s my humble little abode, the Statehouse,” he said proudly. “If you ever need me for something, chances are I’ll probably be there. Or in the Third Rail, which is right under the Statehouse.”

“The Statehouse?” she murmured. “I guess you really do appreciate your history things, then, yeah?”

“You’ve heard about it before?” Hancock asked, impressed.

Sy nodded. “Heard about it quite a bit in school. Never got to see it in person, though.” She looked up and marveled at the building. Despite its age and rather run down state, the Statehouse still held a certain kind of majesty to it. She sighed. “It’s very pretty.”

“Yeah, she’s a real beaut,” Hancock murmured as he, too, took in the sight. He looked down to his other humble little abode and remembered he was giving her a tour.

“You ever want to get a drink, something to eat, listen to some good music sung by the one and only Magnolia, or all three, you’ll wanna head to the Rail,” Hancock rasped. “Bartender might also have some jobs for you if you’re looking for work. Plenty of stuff needing to be done in and around town.”

Plenty of things she’d be absolutely perfect for, if the stories were true. Plenty of things he needed someone else to take care of, as his direct, public involvement would make things a bit complicated and bloody very quickly, to say the very least.

Sy listened intently as Hancock showed her the rest of the town. As the pair would move about the neighborhood, drifters and other passerby would take a good look at them - or more specifically, would take a good look at Sytaarus - before quickly whispering amongst themselves. They kept their distance at all times, and even backed away as they approached. Most were at least somewhat subtle about it, but others were quite blatant, to Hancock’s annoyance. When he knew they were out of earshot of any unneeded audience, he let Sy know what places to avoid and what people to look out for. Namely the little nooks and crannies were where criminals liked to do their business, so as long as she didn’t wander too far from the main streets, she should be just fine. He showed her to the Hotel Rexford last, and let her go on her way. She thanked him graciously for the tour and promised she’d stay out of trouble as best she could before heading through the doors.

As he made his way back to the Statehouse, he couldn’t help but feel a hint of curiosity itching at the back of his skull. He’d heard so much about this woman over the last couple of months, from damn near anybody who could talk. Thought she was just a legend or a myth for a good chunk of it, since he heard about her first through Finn’s drunken or chemmed out ramblings. But no, the lone vault dweller of 111 was in fact real, and she was… fascinating. Soft-spoken, polite, kind of awkward.

He hoped she’d stick around, he found himself thinking as he made his way up the spiral staircase to his office. She was intriguing. And she might just be the thing he needs to get his town back on track to prosperity.

“I could’ve handled Finn, y’know.” Fahrenheit’s cold voice called out as Hancock walked in.

“Hello to you, too, Fahr,” Hancock said with a smirk as he plopped down on one of the couches - the red one, his favorite. “And yeah, you could’ve, but it’s better that people know I can still get my hands dirty.” He shrugged. “‘Sides, wasn’t personal. Don’t need you torturing the poor guy.”

Fahrenheit rolled her eyes. “You always keep me from having fun.”

Hancock snorted. “Only when it ain’t needed.”

She scowled in annoyance. “Seems like that’s becoming more and more commonplace nowadays.”

“Eh, who knows,” Hancock rasped, shrugging. “Maybe that vault dweller will spice things up a bit for everyone around here. In fact, I’d argue that’s guaranteed to spice things up, if how people were acting as I was showing her around today says anything.”

“Hmm. Speaking of,” Fahrenheit said with a small smirk. “I finally finished up that little background check on our newest visitor. Got some pretty interesting stuff you might want to know.”

“Oh, good, good,” Hancock said eagerly as he rubbed his hands together. “Been itchin’ to hear more about her.”

Hancock had sent Fahrenheit to do a little snooping since he started hearing more about the vault dweller. He didn’t really know how she got as detailed accounts as she did, but he didn’t question it. And he certainly didn’t complain, either. There’d been plenty of times those accounts had gotten some pretty bad apples kicked out of Goodneighbor before they rotted the batch. And he’d been quite intent on figuring out what was up with this vaulty, even if she never showed up in Goodneighbor. But now she had, so having the info on her was even more important than before. Just in case.

“Now, a lot of this is a ‘he said, she said’ kind of deal,” Fahr started as she lit up a cigarette. “But the stories are all pretty much consistent, so I’m taking them as true.”

Hancock nodded.

“Now, first thing’s first: She’s only been out of the vault for a few months. Four at the most.”

“Right.”

“She took out an entire group of raiders that were after some minutemen people on her lonesome.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“But did you know she did that on her first day out of the vault?”

Hancock’s brow furrowed. “No, I did not.”

“Finn was the only one who survived out of the entire group, and only because she let him go.”

“Yeah, that’s what Finn’s been sayin.”

Fahrenheit grinned deviously. “She tailed him all the way to Lexington, Hancock. Then started chiseling out the rest of the gang bunked out there before she got bored and left.”

“How many did she take out?” Hancock asked as he lit up another cigarette. He took a drag and puffed out a billowing cloud of smoke, watching it twist and twirl about as Fahr stared intently at him.

“You ready for this, Hancock?”

“Hit me.”

“Twenty-seven confirmed dead. Not counting those who were in Concord.”

Hancock coughed on his smoke. “Twenty-seven?!” he asked incredulously. “That’s almost half the gang right there!”

“Yup. And now you know why Finn practically shit his pants when he saw her. He was one of the last people left out of that entire gang.”

Hancock sat back in his seat. Twenty seven, not counting the other twenty or so she killed in Concord… that’s over 40 confirmed people she killed within the first month she was out of the vault, and there were likely more that just weren’t found yet. That was fucking insane.

“You sure she did that all on her own?” Hancock asked. There was no way it could’ve been just her, right?

“As far as I’m aware, yes. There was mention of a dog and a robot in one of the stories I heard, but I’m almost entirely certain that’s false, considering it was only one story that mentioned that.”

“Holy shit.” Hancock said in awe.

“Holy shit, indeed,” Fahr agreed. “And I haven’t even gotten into the real juicy information yet.”

“Oh, God. I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Well, you better prepare yourself, Hancock,” Fahrenheit growled. “Because this is where things get real fuckin’ interesting.”

She shifted forward in her seat. “You know anything at all about vault 111, Hancock?”

“Nothin’ other than it not being open until she came out,” Hancock answered, puzzled. “Why?”

“I sent someone out to take a look at that vault a couple of months ago, just to see what it was about, and you know what they came back to me with?”

Hancock crossed his arms. “What?”

“They told me that vault is full of cryogenic preservation pods, Hancock. And nothing else. That woman has been around since before the bombs even dropped and woke up from an icy, cold sleep four months ago.”


	9. Trouble

“So you mean to tell me,” Hancock started. “That that woman, who killed at least forty or more people within the first month she was awake, not only is from a vault, but is from before the war?”

Fahrenheit smirked. “Eeeyup.”

“What the fuck was her job before she got frozen?” Hancock demanded as he got up from the couch and paced. “Was she a fuckin’ assassin or something? Military?”

“The person who looked into it told me she was just a housewife, according to some terminal entries in the vault.” Fahrenheit answered. “So there wasn’t any sort of involvement in combat before the war. Nothing public, anyway.”

It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but Hancock appreciated the information. Or did he? It just made things even weirder, he realized.

She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Though there was something a bit disconcerting in that vault…”

“Among the many other disconcerting things about this whole situation?” Hancock asked sarcastically. “That’s crazy. What was it?”

“There was a dead man in one of the cryo pods,” Fahrenheit said, ignoring Hancock’s snide remark. “He’d been shot in the chest.”

Hancock turned to her and threw his hands up in the air. “Okay, so she shot someone the moment she got out of her pod, now?”

Fahrenheit’s lips fiddled with the cigarette in her mouth before she spoke. “According to the terminal entries, that man was her husband.” She looked up at Hancock and smirked. “Awfully coincidental, isn’t it?”

“Why would she kill her own husband?” Hancock asked. Fahrenheit shrugged.

“Maybe they both got out and she decided she wanted to be the only one out here,” she suggested. “Or maybe he tried something with her and she killed him out of self defense. It did supposedly look like a struggle was had before he died.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have a hard time believing she wasn’t the one to do it, considering who’s all involved with that.”

“And who’s left to tell the tale,” Hancock finished. Christ, this was turning into a fucking roller coaster. He plopped back down onto the couch and sighed. “You got anything else on her?”

“No, that’s about all she wrote,” Fahrenheit murmured. “You still want her allowed in town?”

Hancock leaned back in his seat as he thought. On the one hand, she had one hell of a kill streak going on, and not much else to go by. She could have been telling the truth when she said only those who deserved it got it, but what was her definition of deserving it? So far, all the confirmed deaths were your more nasty raiders. Y’know, like the ones who’d ambush caravans and steal supplies, or kill innocent folks and shit like that. So far, there hasn’t been any sort of innocent folk that were put to the crowbar. Outside of her husband, but it’s possible they didn’t know the full story on that. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t hiding the other bodies of innocents or… something. Maybe. On the other end of the spectrum, his town was in fucking shambles. The marketplace was a barren travesty, crime was running rampant, the Institute is driving his community apart. Raiders and Super Mutants were growing bolder by the day. Hell, there was a Super Mutant group that set up shop not a block from Goodneighbor’s gates. Hancock needed the help for getting his shit back on track, but he needed to be careful about it. Not everything could be done by him directly, or by Fahrenheit. He had to play his cards very fucking carefully to make sure it all stayed nice and together. With Sy, if she really is like the person he talked to just a few minutes ago and not a complete and total psychopath like everyone else thinks she is, the answer might be right there in front of him. It was a gamble, but not a lot of people knew her outside of the stories. He had to take that risk.

“Don’t think we got much of a choice.”

Fahrenheit nodded sagely. “I figured you’d say that.”

Just then, a Neighborhood Watchman opened the doors and stepped into the office.

“Mayor,” the ghoul watchman rasped. “The dragon lady would like to see you.”

“Dragon lady?” Hancock frowned. “You mean the vault dweller?”

“Yeah, her.”

“Alright, send her up. I gotta talk to her, anyway,” Hancock said. The watchman nodded to him in confirmation and went back down the stairs. As they waited for her to come up, Hancock and Fahrenheit exchanged a glance.

“This ought to be interesting,” Fahr said with a cold smile.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Hancock murmured. He was going to have Sy stop by if and when she got the chance, but he didn’t remember actually telling her anything. In fact, he was certain he didn’t. Why was she coming, then?

“Wow, it’s so cool in here!” he heard her exclaim as she made her way up the stairs. Fahrenheit snorted.

“If nothing else, I think you have a new history junkee to nerd out with,” she whispered. Hancock shot her a glare but smirked. Fahr loved ragging on him for liking the shit, especially about the colonial garb he wore on the daily. Ever since he picked that frock coat and tricorn up, pre-war history had a tendency to grab his attention.

There was a funny little knock on a door. Sounded like whoever did it was doing it to a song only they heard.

“Come on in,” Hancock called out. The doors opened, and Sytaarus timidly stepped in. She still had her mask on, he noticed. She’d taken off her trench coat, assumably since her cover was blown. Or maybe it was because she was too warm. It was still summer out, after all. The vault suit was still zipped a fair ways down her chest, the sleeves had been torn off at the shoulders, and the pant legs had been torn at the knee. Her bare arms thin but muscular, and were lined with scars of all sorts, including more feral ghoul bites. Her signature crowbar was holstered at her hip, along with a 10mm pistol on the opposite side. Hancock idly wondered if that was the weapon that killed Sy’s husband as she quietly closed the office doors.

“Um, hello, Mr. Hancock,” Sy greeted. “And hello, Ms… Fahr, was it?”

Fahrenheit nodded, keeping her eyes locked on Sy.

“That’s an interesting name. Like mine,” Sy murmured. She jerked a little bit as though she realized something. “Oh! I don’t think I’ve had the chance to properly introduce myself to you.” She held out her hand to shake. “My name is Sytaarus.”

Fahrenheit stared at Sy, glanced at her hand, and then back to Sy, but made no move to shake her hand.

A few awkward moments passed before Sy slowly pulled her hand away. “Erm, I’m… sorry if that made you uncomfortable, Ms. Fahr…”

“I already know all about you,” Fahrenheit said coldly. “Nice to meet you nonetheless.”

Sy laughed awkwardly, though Hancock could see something about her deflate a little. “Yeah, everybody knows about me nowadays. Guess that ain’t much of a surprise there.”

“Any particular reason why you came up here?” Fahrenheit asked. She was keeping the interaction from Hancock; a classic Fahrenheit move when she didn’t trust whoever was seeking his council. He allowed it for now, though he did want to speak with her directly if Fahrenheit gave him the chance.

“The little Mr. Handy bartender at the Rail said Mr. Hancock would have some work for me,” Sy answered. “I can’t remember his name… said something about a rat problem, though.”

“Keep your voice down,” Hancock said quietly. He didn’t say it angrily or anything, but Sy stiffened a little. He thought he had told Charlie to keep quiet about who was paying the bills for that job, but he guessed he didn’t do a good enough job. Oh, well. Best not to try and hide it. Didn’t want any mistrust pushing them apart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Hancock,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just gotta keep things on the down low around here, okay?” Hancock said. “Why don’t you have a seat over here, and we can discuss shit. Alright?”

Sy nodded and sat down on the floor with her legs crossed in front of the coffee table. Hancock and Fahrenheit exchanged a glance before looking back at Sy.

“You know you can sit on one of the couches, right?” Hancock asked slowly. “We ain’t gonna bite ya.” He glanced over at Fahr with a grin. “Or at least I’m not, anyway. Fahrenheit’s a different story.”

Fahrenheit rolled her eyes and snorted.

“Fahrenheit? Like the temperature?” Sy asked with a tilt of her head.

Hancock shrugged. He had no idea what she was talking about. “Sure.”

Sy hummed in thought. “Interesting…” She perked up again. “Also, no, I’m perfectly fine on the floor. I’d feel a bit awkward otherwise.”

“Hey, that’s fine. You do you,” Hancock rasped. “As long as we get this stuff sorted, if you’re still interested.”

“Ah, yes, and I’m very interested at the moment, Mr. Hancock,” Sy chirped. “I’d just like to know what it is I’m doing before I’m doing it, is all.”

“Well, what do you wanna know, exactly?” Hancock asked as he grabbed the bottle of vodka from the coffee table and poured himself a glass. He grabbed a second one - he’d always kept a clean glass or two in case he had guests - and showed it to her. “You want a drink, by the way?”

Sy shook her head. “I’m not allowed to d-...” She paused. “I… no. I shouldn’t. It’s too early in the day for me. I appreciate the offer, though, Mr. Hancock.”

“Eh, suit yourself,” Hancock rasped as he set the empty glass on the table. He offered Fahr a glass as well, but she also declined. He figured she would, but it was still worth asking to be nice, if nothing else. She never drank around guests unless it was someone she really trusted. Somebody had to be the designated driver or whatever it was called, right? He took a sip from his glass. “So, what was it you wanted to know again?”

Sy sat up a little straighter. “Who am I wiping the floor with and why?” she asked with an almost determined kind of tone. “I’m not gonna take someone out for somebody else unless I know there’s a valid reason for it. If you don’t give me a good reason, I’m not going to do it. Does that sound fair?”

Fahrenheit cocked a brow and Hancock could tell she was going to say something, but the glare he gave her kept her from acting on it. He was surprised Sy was going to ask questions like that at all, if he were to be honest. It was a pleasant surprise, though, to be sure; especially with questions like that. Meant she wasn’t entirely a loose cannon, unless somebody pointed her in the wrong direction. That was good, as far as he was concerned.

“That sounds fair, yeah,” he answered. “Though… next time, if it ain’t me you’re askin’ that, I’d probably ask it a bit differently. If folks have bad intentions and want you to do some dirty work for ‘em, they might twist the objective to get you to do what they want.” He shrugged. “You’re kinda like a mercenary right now. I pay you to take someone or something out. Next time I’d be a little subtle about it. Try to weasel the shit out, ya dig?” He smiled. “But you keep askin’ those questions, though. I like that. You ain’t about jumpin’ in on a job without knowing what you’re gettin’ into. Keeps it all a very mutual street.”

He didn’t know why he felt the need to coach her on that, but didn’t think much more on it, and instead took another sip of his drink. “Now, about the details: Basically, there’s this mafia group that’s been around this part of the city ruins for some time. Call themselves the Triggermen.” He tapped his fingers against the coffee table as he figured out how he was gonna word this. “Now, the Triggermen have been a pretty common thing to see in Goodneighbor since before I became mayor, and I’ve never really seen eye to eye with the ideals they got in mind.” He shrugged and lopsidedly grinned. “They’re criminals, you know? I ain’t about the shit they do, as I’m sure you’re very aware by now.” His face grew serious again. “And now that I am mayor, I think it’s time they lost their footing in my town. Which is in those warehouses.” And a few other places, though that could be talked about later when Hancock knew where Sy stood, he thought to himself.

Sy was silent for what felt like an unusual stretch of time before she finally spoke. “That sounds like a solid plan to me. Get those guys out of the way so you can focus your attention on other, more important things around the neighborhood.” She nodded. “I like it.”

“It’s very important that the mayor’s name is kept out of this, might I mention,” Fahrenheit interjected. “Politics around this problem’s very prevalent, let’s say.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Hancock said, remembering. “Yeah, you wanna keep that shit quiet. If they find out I’m involved, there’ll be hell to pay. For me, for you, everybody - it’ll be a goddamn mess.”

Sy nodded again. “Understood. Not much of a talker when I’m fighting, anyway, so I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” She paused. “Err, unless you mean, like… outside of combat.” She shrugged. “Either way, my mouth is shut.”

“Sounds good,” Hancock rasped. “As for payment-”

“Oh, don’t-”

“Let him finish,” Fahrenheit growled, making Sy flinch. She was jumpy, wasn’t she?

“As for payment,” Hancock started again. “You do this job and I’ll give you, say…” He shrugged. “I dunno, how’s 200 caps sound?”

Sy glanced to Fahrenheit, who impatiently gestured to her as though she were cueing her to speak. Sy glanced back to Hancock. “I, um, I don’t do caps as payment, Mr. Hancock.”

“What, is a pat on the back and a ‘good job’ better pay than 200 whole caps?” Fahrenheit mocked. Hancock shot her a glare. That was over the line. She sneered at him but said nothing more.

“What would you rather have as payment, then, sister?” Hancock asked. He could think of a few things she could ask for. Chems, special privileges around town, sex - could really be anything.

“If I help out around town,” Sy said slowly, cautiously almost. “Could I be allowed to stay here for a while?”

“Did you not rent out a room at the Rexford?” Hancock asked, frowning. He saw her go in. Why wouldn’t she have?

“I… I did, but…”

“Do you not have enough money to cover it?” Hancock asked gently as he took another sip of his drink. He didn’t understand why that would turn her away from caps, but it was still worth asking. He knew the prices for the Rexford, especially nowadays, were far from cheap. Sy let out a breath and nodded.

“That and I, uh…” She put her palms over her knees and her fingers grasped at her flesh. “I… have issues doing math. Dys… Dyscalculia, I think it’s called? So I tend not to deal with money when I can. Don’t want people taking advantages of me if I can avoid it. Makes my life a hell of a lot easier.”

“Oh,” Hancock said. “Well… Hmm.” He scratched his forehead. “Clair ain’t gonna be a big fan of you staying in the Rexford for free…” He snapped his fingers. “Tell you what: you do good on this job, and I’ll pay for it. It’s only 100 caps a week, so it ain’t gonna break the bank for me by any sense of the word.” He leaned forward and looked to her with a tilt of his head. “How’s that sound?”

She looked like she was going to explode. “Really?!” Sy exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Oh, that sounds absolutely wonderful, Mr. Hancock! Thank you so, so much. I won’t disappoint you!”

Hancock chuckled. He liked her enthusiasm. It was a pure, happy thing. Or at least as pure as it can get when you’re working out a deal involving the deaths of several people on behalf of someone else. “I’ll take your word on that, sister.”

“Should I go deal with it now, or wait?” Sy asked in a quiet but eager and excited voice as she practically leapt to her feet. Fahrenheit ran a hand over her face and Hancock laughed again.

“I say wait until dark, at least,” Hancock whispered. “Or some ass crack hour of the night, where people aren’t gonna be awake or at least very alert.”

Sy nodded quickly. “Sounds good, sounds good.” She put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest, and Hancock couldn’t help but think that she looked a bit like a goofy little superhero doing a pose. All she needed was that trench coat back on and blowing majestically in the wind like a cape, and she’d be all set.

Though Hancock kind of liked seeing her without it for a change. It was like a layer of her was peeled off, both physically and spiritually speaking. Almost felt kind of intimate, in a way. Like he was seeing something personal by her showing her vault suit instead of hiding it under that coat. Not to mention those muscly, scarred little arms were fun to look at. He was willing to bet there was an enthusiastically told story for each and every last one of those scars. Bullet grazes, bullet holes, cuts, scrapes - hell, there were even bug bites. From just normal little bugs. Not even from the big nasty ones, as far as visible scars go.

Sy let out a breath before spinning around on her heel towards the doors, sending Hancock crashing out of his little reverie. “Alright, you two! I’ll head back to my room and get ready for the extermination tonight.” She looked back at the pair in the office and Hancock could just imagine the smile on her mystery face. “I appreciate your hospitality, Mr. Hancock and Ms. Fahrenheit! Thank you again!”

Oh, cover. Look at her, she’s catching on quick. Hancock smiled. “Right on, sister. Keep your wits about you.” He perked up. “Oh, and a couple more things I want you to be aware of before you head out.”

Sy walked back to the coffee table and tilted her head. “Yeah?”

“One thing, for your method of extermination,” Hancock started. He thought on it for a moment before grinning. “You keep it to your signature style, okay? I think that’ll send a pretty clear message to any more rats that decide to check up on their friends.”

Sy nodded. “Okee dokee.”

“Secondly, those doors to the warehouses are locked, and since this is a hush-hush extermination, people won’t take kindly to you just busting in there,” Hancock warned. “So if you can, I would probably find another way in.”

Sy nodded and turned back for the doors. “Will do, Mr. Hancock! It shall be done.”

He hoped so, he thought to himself as the doors closed behind her. He needed her.

~~

A few hours after Sy left, Hancock and Fahrenheit decided to head down to the Third Rail for a drink. After signing the trade agreement paperwork and hitting the finance books - which held rather frighteningly low numbers, even lower than last month - they were itching for something a little more enjoyable to do. It was late afternoon now, which meant Sy was likely going to be doing her little bit of exterminating fairly soon. If Hancock were to be honest, he was rather anxious to see what she was going to do. Was she going to go through with it? Was she actually going to help him? God, it was like he was sending someone out for his first job all over again. The nervousness, the anticipation, the excitement - Hancock was raring to see how this was going to play out. Goodneighbor and his position as mayor depended on her actions.

Ham nodded to Hancock and Fahr and stepped aside to let them through. They went down the stairs and into the main room to the Rail, and took in the familiar sight of people of all sorts sitting at the bar, or at the tables or couches laid about the place, chatting with one another or simply enjoying a drink as Magnolia sung her heart out on stage. The sight and smell of cigarette smoke billowed about the bar like a fog while the string lights hung above the counter cut through it like a sword. A soft red light coming from the VIP room beckoned them to enter, but tonight didn’t feel like that kind of night. Instead, Hancock and Fahr went to their normal spot in the main room - the corner nearest to the bar counter, just off to its right. As he and Fahr sat down, the Mr. Handy at the bar counter swiveled an eyestalk in their direction before floating over.

“Evening, Mayor Hancock,” the bot greeted with a Cockney accent. “What will you be havin’ tonight?”

“Whatever you got that’ll knock me on my ass,” Hancock rasped. The bot turned to Fahrenheit.

“I’ll have my usual, too,” she said quietly. Hancock snorted.

“Alright, then. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

As Charlie went back to the bar to pour their drinks, the scantily dressed drifter from earlier got up from the table she was sitting at and sauntered over with her chair and drink in hand. She still had the same outfit on from before, but had done her hair and face all nice. All blue, to match. Hancock smiled as she approached and Fahrenheit kept her eyes locked on her, but said nothing.

“Well, hey, there. What brings you to this part of the neighborhood, mayor?” the drifted purred as she sat. Hancock chuckled.

“Just here for a good time like everyone else, sister,” he said. “How about you?”

“Sounds like you and I have similar goals in mind,” she said a titter as she twirled a lock of dark blue hair around her finger. She shifted in her seat so that she could rest her arms against the little round table next to Hancock’s seat and rested her chin in her palm. “I got awful worried about you, you know. Thought that vault dweller was gonna take you out for sure.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “But you scared her off real good, didn’t you? Bet she won’t be causin’ issues for anybody in this town.”

Hancock was about to respond when Charlie came back.

“S’cuse me, miss,” the bot grumbled as he floated over and placed down a couple of drinks. “Here they are. On the house.” One was a glass of vodka - Hancock’s - and the other was a glass of bourbon - Fahrenheit’s. Hancock looked up at Charlie with a pleading expression.

“Are you gonna let me pay for this one, Charlie?” he asked. The bot jerked.

“No. ‘fraid not, mayor,” Charlie responded sternly. “I can’t take your money.”

Hancock sighed. “Well, guess I can’t say I didn’t try.”

The woman laughed harder and louder than was probably necessary as the bot floated back to the bar counter. “Oh, mayor, you’re too funny.”

“Thanks. I try,” Hancock said, grinning smugly. The woman tilted her head a little.

“You were gonna say somethin’ before Charlie came through,” she stated. “What was it?”

Hancock furrowed his brow. “Oh, yeah,” he said after a moment. “Yeah, no, I didn’t scare the vaulty off.” He grinned. “We got ourselves a celebrity wantin’ to stick around the neighborhood for a spell. Can’t turn that opportunity down, you know?”

The drifter frowned. “You’re seriously lettin’ her stay here? That sounds awful risky, even for you, mayor.”

“I know it does,” Hancock said. “But she needs a place to stay. So I’m letting her stick around unless she starts trouble.” He took a sip of his drink and grimaced. It was good, just Jesus, did Charlie deliver on the “knock me on my ass” front. “Goodneighbor is supposed to be open for everyone, after all.” He finished hoarsely.

“Oh, right, right,” the lady said quickly. “Wasn’t tryin’ to undermine your authority or nothin’. She’s just…” she paused. “She’s trouble, mayor. Nothin’ but trouble.” She shrugged. “I mean, you heard the stories. She’s got a hell of a mean streak all across the Commonwealth.”

“We’ll see about that, sister,” Hancock rasped. “I ain’t about to jump to any conclusions.” Like everyone else had, he finished in his head.

The woman pouted her lips - which were meticulously swathed in a dark blue, almost black lipstick - and tapped her fingers against her thumb. “But do you really wanna sit here and wait for her to make a move before you decide on anything?”

Hancock sat forward in his chair and stared directly at her. He wasn’t about to argue with people about his decision. Sy was too important to toss out on assumptions. “Yes.”

The woman must have realized she was crossing a line and put her best puppy dog eyes on. “Hey, hey, I ain’t tryin’ to tell you what to do. You are the mayor, after all. I’m just worried for the neighborhood’s well being, y’know?”

Hancock cocked a brow. “That’s fair and respectable, sister, but do remember who’s in charge here.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “She’s stickin’ around until she proves she can’t be welcome around the neighborhood anymore. Dig?”

The woman hesitated before nodding. “Alright, yeah. Yeah, you’re the boss. What you say goes.” She took a sip of her drink - beer, it looked like - before setting her glass on the table. She languidly sat back in her chair and looked at Hancock with a steamy expression. “Don’t have to worry about telling me what to do more than once, though, I’ll tell you that. I’ll roll over for you any day.”

Hancock paused and looked at her. That took a bit of a turn.

“What, can’t handle it all of a sudden?” the woman said with a smug grin. “I understand; I’m one hell of a wild ride.”

Hancock laughed. “Takes two to tango, sister. And I don’t think you know what your potential dancing partner here is capable of.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

“Oh, I assure you, you don’t know the half of it.” Hancock growled.

The drifter bit her lip. “Maybe you oughta show me some of your moves, mayor. Then I can show you some of mine. Who knows, maybe you’ll even learn a thing or two.”

Hancock grinned devilishly. Oh, she was trouble, wasn’t she?

~~

Hancock tried his best to keep up with the flirting, but as the night grew old, his mind was more and more plagued by that job he sent Sy on. Not to mention, poor Fahrenheit was about to strangle someone if she had to sit through that much longer. They finally took their leave at some stupid time of night, after a few more drinks on Hancock’s end. He wasn’t drunk yet, but he was at the point where things were getting a little funky. He was grateful Fahr hardly drank; it was always good to have someone trustworthy at his back. As they made their way back to the house, Hancock heard the door to one of the warehouses across the street slowly close and saw a figure come stumbling about in the shadows, and damn near had a heart attack. Please, please tell him that wasn’t a Triggerman. Please tell him Sy didn’t decide they were more worth her time than he was. Please tell him they didn’t take her out, or find out he was behind sending her out to kill them all.

Fahrenheit had her pipe pistol in her hand faster than Hancock could blink. “Who’s out there?” She demanded. The figure stopped moving and seemingly looked to the pair, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. It rose before taking a cautious step closer.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Fahrenheit, it’s me,” Sy’s voice called out from the shadows as she stumbled out into the light. She sounded like she was breathing rather heavily. Hancock damn near collapsed with relief. “Just finished up the last of the rats.” She had blood all over her, even on the gas mask. Right over the little filter things on the front, so it looked like the painting of the dragon’s teeth were covered in the red slick. She clutched her side with one hand and her other wielded her crowbar. There was new bits of flesh and tattered fabric hanging off the hook. “They were stubborn little bastards, those rats. I think I was more so, though.”

Hancock was speechless. He was pretty sure it was the alcohol, but… damn, that had to be the hottest thing he’d seen in a long fucking time.

“Are you alright, Mr. Hancock?” Sy asked worriedly with a tilt of her head. “I didn’t frighten you, did I?”

“Wh-.. Oh, no, you’re fine,” Hancock said, stumbling over his words as he was tossed from his stupor. “Just surprised to see ya at this time of night, is all.”

“Aye, I was a bit surprised to see you two, as well,” Sy said with a breathy chuckle. “Fate decree we would cross paths again so soon, though, it would seem.” She looked around to make sure no one was watching them before looking back. “I will take my leave, now, though; those rats got me good, and I’m in need of a good rest.” She waved to them with her crowbar and turned back towards the Rexford. “I wish you a good rest of your night, Mr. Hancock and Ms. Fahrenheit. Farewell.”

The pair watched her limp to the Rexford in a stunned silence. As they watched the door close, they exchanged a glance.

“Guess we won’t have to worry about whether or not she was gonna take the job anymore,” Hancock murmured. Fahrenheit nodded as she put her pipe pistol back in its holster.

“We’ll get that all dealt with in the morning, though,” Fahr said quietly. “Best we call it a night.”

“Yeah,” Hancock said distractedly. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

He couldn’t stop thinking about what he saw as he made his way up the stairs. Her stepping out into the light, all covered in blood, the casual conversation, the breathy little laugh… Shit made his fuckin’ head swim. Though that may have been the booze doing that, he realized. He remembered seeing her clutching her side and hoped she wasn’t too terribly hurt, but looking at all those scars she had on her, she probably didn’t care. Hell, she probably even liked it. Maybe that was why she fought people as much as she did. Maybe she was an adrenaline junkie who could never get enough of that rush, of that feeling of combat.

Hancock took off his tricorn and frock coat, and flopped down onto his bed with a groan. He flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, replaying the scene before him once more as he started to drift off to sleep.

Maybe the drifter was right. Sy was trouble - but the kind of trouble Hancock knew fit in with his town, with his people. The kind of trouble he found himself yearning to be again, some day.

Hancock needed her to take on another job, and soon.


	10. Chapter 10

Hancock was awake and out of bed surprisingly early the next morning. Considering just how late it was before he and Fahrenheit called it a night, he wasn’t expecting to even wake up until well into the afternoon hours. But no, when he opened his eyes, the sun was just starting to rise.

He was never much of a morning person, but once he was up, he was up for the day. He sluggishly sat up and stretched before rubbing his eyes and yawning. He looked about his room before he got up and wandered over to the kitchen area in his office. Might as well get some coffee going. He could use the boost. He knelt down and grabbed his coffee pot from the cupboard, along with a coffee tin and a couple of coffee mugs. He turned the sink on and filled up the pot and put it down on the stove before he threw some coffee grounds into the grounds holder, then put it all back together and flicked on the stove top. After that, he went into the fridge and grabbed a jug of brahmin milk and a box of Sugar Bombs on the counter. He got his coffee mugs ready - a quick dash of brahmin milk and a bunch of crushed up Sugar Bombs for him, and just a few crushed up Sugar Bombs for Fahrenheit - before putting the jug back in the fridge, the Sugar Bombs back on the counter, and flopping down on the couch as he waited for his coffee to percolate.

“My, aren’t you up with the chickens this morning?” Fahrenheit’s voice made Hancock jump. Christ, she was sneaky when she wanted to be. She laughed at his reaction as she walked into the office.

“Yeah. I dunno. Just felt like getting up early today, I guess,” he grumbled. He was almost half tempted to just sprawl out onto the couch and try to sleep, but he knew he wasn’t going to. He was up now, there was no arguing that once it happened. Instead, he patted his pockets, looking for his cigarette carton, but found Fahrenheit holding a cigarette right in front of his face with a smirk.

“Thanks,” he said with a smirk. She handed him her lighter as well before sitting down on the opposite couch and pulling out a cig for herself. After he lit up, he tossed the lighter to her and she caught it without even looking before lighting her own in one fluid motion. She put the lighter back in her pants pocket as she took a drag.

“So, what’s the plan of attack today, Hancock?” she asked, watching the smoke billow from her mouth. “The vaulty looked like she got her little job done. Might have to go check up on her at some point. Keep your end of the bargain.”

Oh, right. Shit. Hancock had forgotten about that. The memories of last night came flooding back. Chatting with the drifter in the rail, coming out and seeing Sy all covered in someone else’s blood and gore as they had a casual conversation at some dumb hour of the night… He sighed and took a drag on his own cigarette. Guess it wasn’t just the booze making that encounter a little exciting after all.

“I’ll go have a chat with Clair and get Sy’s rent all squared away after breakfast,” Hancock murmured.

Fahrenheit nodded. “Guess we’ll be playing stupid about that for a good while now, huh?

“Stupid? About what?” Hancock asked.

“Not a damn clue, Hancock. Not a damn clue.”

The rumbling of the coffee pot’s water boiling to the top caught Hancock’s attention, and he quickly got to his feet and rushed over to the stove. He turned the knob down to the lowest heat and poured his and Fahrenheit’s coffee before bringing both mugs to the table. Fahr quickly cleared it of unused chems and he set the mugs down. He’d forgotten to put his extra shit away the last time he used. He’d have to take care of that later. Usually he was pretty good about keeping things clean, but lately, he’d been slacking. Been too busy with shit around town, kept forgetting to come back to it. Least it wasn’t stuff he had to worry about keepin’ cold, though, he supposed.

“I hope we get some honey in the next caravan shipment,” Fahrenheit said as she wrinkled her nose at the lumps of Sugar Bomb crumbs mixed in her coffee. “The Sugar Bombs do their job as a sweetener, I’ll give them that; but it looks fucking disgusting.”

Hancock nodded in agreement. “Trust me, there’s a ton of shit I hope we’re gettin next week. We need stuff bad. Daisy’s stock is damn near empty on everything already.”

Fahrenheit sighed. “And it’s only gonna get worse once the fall and winter season hits…”

“No, don’t say that,” Hancock growled. “We just gotta find a way to localize shit so we don’t have to rely on other towns gettin’ us the goods.” He shook his head and huffed. “Why the hell Goodneighbor of all places is set up so damned dependently like this is beyond me.”

Fahrenheit smiled to herself but said nothing. Hancock took notice and cocked a brow. It was a rare sight for even him to see her even smile nowadays. Surprised him every time to this day.

“You got somethin’ to say there, Fahr?” he asked after he took a sip of his coffee. Her smile grew and she shrunk away. He thought back to what he said and realized what she was grinning at.

“No I do not, Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor,” she said shakily.

“You sure? It looks like you got something to say,” Hancock pressed, his own grin widening at her struggle to keep her composure.

“Positive.”

“You’re full of shit. Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it! You know you want to.”

Fahrenheit let out a shaky breath to keep herself from laughing. “Are you saying…” She paused. “Are you saying that Goodneighbor is an independent woman that don’t need no man to tell her what to do?”

Hancock snickered. “Why, yes. Yes I am, Fahrenheit. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Jokes aside, it was something that needed to be done, and they both knew it. Goodneighbor relied a lot on supplies from other towns, and the ways to get to and from the neighborhood were getting dangerous. They were lucky they were still getting supplies at all yet, if Hancock were to be honest. He was going to hate the day the folks from Bunker Hill decided the risk was too great to even bother trying to come anymore.

After a simple breakfast of their coffee and a couple of ramen noodle bowls, Hancock threw on his frock coat and tricorn and he and Fahr finally started their day. It was still rather early out, so the streets were quiet, but people were starting to awaken and start their own days, too. KLEO was still standing patiently at her counter and greeted Fahrenheit as the pair stepped out onto the street. She was a robot, after all, and they tended not to need to sleep. Unless they were recharging or something.

“Well, hey there, tall, dark, and gorgeous,” the assaultron purred. She jerked her head over. “And hello, Hancock.”

The ghoul barked out a laugh. “Morning to you, too, KLEO.”

Fahrenheit grinned deviously as she made her way over to KLEO’s counter. As the two rather… intensely flirted with one another, Hancock went off to the Rexford so he could talk to Clair about Sy’s rent. Fahr knew the place was safe for the most part, so she let him go on his own. He passed by the sleeping bags and mattresses lined up on the sidewalk, some occupied and some not, and couldn’t help but feel bad for the drifters in that kind of situation. He knew some of them didn’t mind living like they were, and a small few of them even preferred it over sleeping indoors, but a lot of them wanted a place inside they could stay. The Rexford used to be the place to go for that, but ever since Marowski and his crew took over… prices were jacked up, and people couldn’t afford to stick around anymore.

That is, unless you were in good with the employees there, and the people they worked for.

He tried his best to give people a place to stay without having to worry about payment. Hell, he turned the entire attic of the State house into a sort of guest house for people to live in, along with a couple of the empty display rooms on the other floors. But even then, there were so many people in Goodneighbor that he couldn’t provide for, even if he wanted to, that didn’t have anywhere to stay other than outside on the street.

He hated it, he found himself thinking as he walked into the Rexford. He hated being someone with so much influence and power and yet he couldn’t seem to use any of it the way he wanted. Goodneighbor was supposed to be a place where you could deal with your own problems, and he couldn’t even do that himself, let alone his people.

He sighed and pushed those thoughts away for the time being as he walked up to the Rexford’s desk. An old woman at the desk perked up at his approach, then scowled.

“Good morning, Clair,” Hancock said with a deceptively cheerful tone. He pushed down the shit eating grin he could feel begging to grace his face as her scowl deepened. He never particularly liked Clair. She was always holding her nose up to damn near everything, and always had something to say about whatever or whoever happened in the neighborhood. Reminded him a little too much of the Upper Stands folks in Diamond City for his liking.

“What do you want, Hancock?” Clair asked, her voice taut. Not even a ‘good morning’, huh? Must be in a particularly pissy mood.

“The vault dweller rented a room here, didn’t she?” He asked.

The woman crossed her arms and huffed. “She did. Barely had enough money for the night.”

Hancock took out a pouch from his pocket it and threw it on the desk. Clair looked at it then looked back at Hancock with a raised brow.

“This is for her rent for the next week,” Hancock explained. Clair took the pouch and dumped it out onto the desk before counting out each cap. He smirked when she looked up at him with her eyes narrowed.

“There isn’t enough money here,” she growled.

“That’s because I took out the expenses that end up coming back to me, since I’m the one paying for it,” Hancock said with a mockingly matter-of-factly tone. The purely aggravated look she had on her face was priceless. She can’t be skimming him like she usually does if he takes out the funds that are supposed to come his way in the first place.

“Right,” she mumbled. “You want anything else?”

“Yes, actually,” he said, thinking. “Which room is she staying in?”

“Top floor. Long hallway. It’s the last one on the right,” she said automatically. She frowned. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just wanna check up on her, is all,” he said. “See how she’s takin’ to the neighborhood.”

He wasn’t lying. He did actually want to see how she was doing, but he also needed to talk about what was going to happen after she had finished that job. Make sure she kept her mouth shut and everything, even though he knew people would figure out who did it pretty damn quick. The real question was what people were going to do about it. About her.

He made his way up the stairs and down the hall and kept his eyes on the right side’s doors until he finally came to the last one. He gave it a tentative knock and heard some furniture - likely the bed - squeak in protest as someone moved on it.

“Who is it?” Yup. Definitely Sy’s voice.

“Hancock,” he answered.

“Ah! One moment!” He heard the furniture squeak again, then silence. “Come in, Mr. Hancock.”

He slowly opened the door and walked in to see Sy sitting up on the bed, under the covers. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She had a hand raising the sheets above her chest, further suggesting to Hancock she didn’t have anything on. The gas mask - which was clean of any blood, he noticed - had been hastily put on. Seemed she really wasn’t keen on people seeing her face. The hood for it was missing, giving the illusion that the dragon on the mask a frizzy, fluffy mane of wavy auburn hair. Upon looking at it, Hancock was genuinely unsure how she could even fit all that hair under her hood. It wasn’t particularly long by any sense of the word - only down to her shoulders - but it just had such a volume to it. Kind of reminded him of his hair, back when he had it.

“I, uh, I apologize for my unsightly appearance,” she murmured. “I had to get my vault suit washed and dried, and I don’t have any spare clothes.” She laid back down on the bed and groaned in pain, taking care not to let the blankets slip away and expose anything. “I… I would’ve at least put my trench coat on, but I can’t really get out of bed right now.” She gestured to the coat in question, which was neatly folded on the desk. Her crowbar was laying on top of it, nice and clean from any of yesterday’s use. Her holster and pistol was nowhere to be seen. Likely under her pillow or bed.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to,” he reassured her. “I just wanted to let you know I got your rent taken care of and stuff, so you don’t have to worry about that for a while.”

“Thank you,” Sy said weakly.

“Did they really get you that bad?” Hancock asked quietly as he made his way over to the bedside. “Do you need to see a doctor or something?”

Sy shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no, no. I bandaged it myself, don’t worry. See?” She very carefully maneuvered the blanket to show him the bandaging without exposing herself. It was a bit haphazardly done, but considering she did it herself without any help, that was understandable. “Just got a good whackin’ in the ribs, is all. Among other things.”

Hancock grimaced. “Yikes.”

She shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse.” She moved the blankets back over her and winced. “It was a real pain in the ass to try and get that patched up, though.” She sighed and her voice dropped to a whisper when she next spoke. “I figured I’d have to do it myself, since people would get suspicious if I came in injured after they find out what happened last night.” She chuckled, then winced again. “I was lucky Ms. Clair was asleep at her desk when I came in. She seems to sleep like a rock.”

Hancock nodded. “No, that sounds about right.” He joked. He looked down at her worriedly and his tone grew serious again. “You sure you don’t want any pain meds or anything? I can get you some so you don’t have to sit and suffer like this.”

She moved her head to look at him before looking away as she thought about the offer.

“I…” she paused. “I don’t want you to go to any extra trouble for me if you don’t want to, Mr. Hancock. You’ve already done more than enough for me, as far as I’m concerned.”

Hancock frowned. “It ain’t no bother to me, sister. You’re hurt. You could easily stand for it better than I ever could.” He shrugged. “Besides, Med-X as a recreational thing isn’t really my gig anyway, unless I need help to sleep or somethin’. Even then, Jet does the trick just as good, if not better.”

Sy was silent for a moment. “You do drugs?”

Hancock couldn’t help but snort. “Yes, I do. I’m surprised you didn’t come to that conclusion when you came to my office yesterday.”

“I didn’t think anything of it,” she said quietly. He was relieved there was no chastising from her. No ‘drugs are bad!’ or ‘why are you wasting your life on that shit?’. He got that fairly often, even in Goodneighbor. It was a nice change of pace. “If… If it really doesn’t bother you to do it, I wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Like I said before, it ain’t no bother to me. As long as you’re comfortable.”

She was silent again, but when she next spoke, it was another one of those times where even though he couldn’t see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you, Mr. Hancock. I really mean it.”

“Not a problem, Sy,” he murmured. He felt his pockets. “I think I might actually… Ah! Yes I do.” He pulled out a little vial and a syringe box. “I always keep some stuff on me in case anybody is in need.” He grinned. “So you’re just in luck, sister.”

He set the syringe box and vial on the end table by her bed. She looked over at it before looking back at Hancock. “I, um…”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.

“I… I’ve never given myself an injection before,” she said quietly. “Only stimpaks during emergencies. And I’m lucky I even know how to do that.”

“I can show you how, if you want,” Hancock offered. “It ain’t hard, especially if you got a set of smooth skin yet. Just gotta find the right vein and stick it in there.” She was wilent again and Hancock knew what she was going to say. “And no, it’s no big deal at all to me, by the way. I’ve shown plenty of people through their first time. It’s no bother.”

Sy let out a breath before nodding.

“Alrighty then, sister,” he said as he grabbed a chair from the desk on the opposite side of the room and set it at the bedside before sitting down in it. “Hold out your arm, please.”

She did as she was told and held out her arm.

“I got a sparkly new needle just for you today, it would seem,” Hancock said as he opened the box and took out the syringe, the cleaning wipe, a couple of bandaids, and the sanitary solution vial that came with it. “You know, you people are lucky you came up with these reusable ones. That way nobody’s using a dirty needle. Most of the time, at least. And don’t worry, by the way. I’ll make sure this one’s kept just for you.” She was probably going to need it in the future, he thought to himself.

He started looking around for a vein. Wasn’t too terribly hard finding one; her veins were quite prominent, and it wasn’t like it was his first time looking for them, either. Her being as wiry and pale as she was definitely helped in his finding one, though. Once he did, he opened up a cleaning wipe packet and started cleaning the site. Sy shivered at the cold feeling.

He’d been cautious about touching her at first; he knew people didn’t like the feeling of ghoul skin and often avoided contact as much as possible. Sy, though? She didn’t seem to mind him much at all. It could’ve easily just been the situation she was in, though. Something in the back of his head wished it wasn’t.

“Have you taken any kind of painkiller at all before?” Hancock asked. Sy went still as she thought about it before shaking her head.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Hancock nodded. He wasn’t overly surprised, considering the life she lived, but was still kind of impressed, again considering the life she lived. She got all scratched up, shot up, bitten, and god knows what else, and weathered through it without anything to help her push through it except Stimpaks. And those didn’t do shit to help pain, other than speeding up the healing process. What a little trooper.

He snatched the Med-X vial and the syringe from the table.

“How much pain would you say you’re in right now?” he asked.

“Like on a scale of one to ten?” Sy asked back. She thought on it. “Probably a solid three or four.”

“I need a more solid answer than that, sister.”

“Sorry, sorry. Four.”

Hancock nodded again as he stuck the needle into the vial and filled the syringe about half full. This was her first time having this kind of stuff, and she wasn’t in too much excruciating pain, according to her, so he figured a half dose would be best. He pulled the syringe back out and made doubly sure there weren’t any air bubbles in it, then glanced down at Sy and noticed she was staring at the needle. Or at least he thought she was. Like a lot of other things, it was hard to tell with the mask she wore. Almost made him wish the damn thing was off.

As he brought the needle closer to her, he could feel her arm tensing up in his grasp. Yeah, she was definitely watching that needle, alright. He didn’t think that of all things would be the thing to scare someone like her, but you never know. There was all sorts of surprises when it came to Sy.

“You don’t have to look if you don’t want to, love,” he said softly. With that, she almost immediately looked away. He rubbed her arm reassuringly. “This’ll only take a second, alright? It won’t hurt, I promise.”

She didn’t say anything, and instead just nodded. He pushed the needle in and squeezed the syringe, watching the clear liquid empty into her arm completely before he pulled it back out and set it aside to be cleaned later. He cleaned up any blood that was welling up - which was hardly any at all - took one of the bandaids out of its package, and stuck it over the site. It was a fun little green one with little retrosaurs on it. Must have been meant to be a kid’s box or something.

“There! All done,” he chirped as he placed her arm back on the bed. She looked back, down to her arm, and then up to him.

“That wasn’t too bad,” she said quietly. Her hand closed and her thumb rubbed back and forth along the side of her index finger. “Thank you again, Mr. Hancock. That was really… really nice of you.”

“Hey, it’s not a problem at all,” he said sternly as he got up from the chair. “Now you go and take it easy, okay? This stuff will make you drowsy, so you’ll probably be sleepin’ through most of today, anyway.”

She hummed in acknowledgement as he moved the chair back to its desk. He grabbed the syringe from the table along with the sanitation solution vial and sterilized the syringe before putting it back in the box and the box back in his pocket. He’d have to remember to label it when he got back to the State House so he didn’t mix it up with anybody else’s. He’d always been very particular about how he handled needles and syringes. Especially the reusable ones. He’d lost a good friend of his when he was younger to a bad needle, and he’d been cautious about it ever since.

As he got his things set and squared away, he could see the Med-X was starting to kick in. Sy was looking considerably more relaxed, and if he wasn’t paying attention, he’d have thought she was asleep already. She noticed him watching her and moved her head just a little. That was fast.

“Hancock, this stuff feels weird,” she slurred. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so goofy in my fuckin’ life…”

Hancock chuckled. “Yeah, it’ll do that to ya. I hope it ain’t bad, though?”

Sy shook her head real slow. “No, no. Not bad at all. Just weird.” She giggled. “S’kinda nice.”

“Well, that’s good,” Hancock said. “You take it easy now, though, okay? I’m gonna head out. Mayoral duties and all that shit.”

She giggled again. “You better go do that then, Mr. Mayor. Don’t keep the people waitin’.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Hancock murmured. “I’ll come check on you in a little bit, okay? You want anything before I head out?”

“I’m good,” she said sleepily.

“Alrighty then. I’ll see ya in a bit.”

"M'kay. See ya later, alligator."

And with that, Hancock left. He was sure to leave the door locked - and actually locked, too. There were fake locks that people mistakenly used and ended up getting their shit snagged because of it as well as actual, functional locks - so nobody tried to bother her or anything and headed down the stairs, out of the Rexford. He could feel Clair’s eyes burning into his back as he left, but he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t feel like putting himself through another conversation with her if he didn’t have to, if he were to be honest.

As Hancock stepped out onto the street, he noticed a crow sitting on the string lights hung across the buildings above him. It was watching him intently before letting out an odd noise. It definitely wasn’t a normal crow’s caw, but almost like… barking? It took off and flew into one of the broken windows of the warehouse building right down the street from the Memory Den. Hancock looked around, genuinely unsure if he actually heard and saw the bird.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Fahrenheit whispered behind him, making him jump damn near out of his skin. Which is quite the feat when you’re a ghoul.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Fahrenheit!” he hissed. “Don’t fucking scare me like that.” He took a deep breath and readjusted his tricorn, which had been made askew from him moving so suddenly. “So you saw it, too, then?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, shit,” Hancock murmured. “If we got scavengers on ‘em already…”

“We don’t know anything, remember,” Fahrenheit reminded him. “We’ll just play things cool.”

Just then, a woman’s scream was heard down the street, not far from the Rail, and the drifter he was with the night before came running out.

“Mayor, Mayor!” she cried. “Somethin’ must’ve happened last night! It’s… it’s awful! You gotta see it!”

Hancock and Fahrenheit exchanged a glance. “Sure thing. Lead the way, sister.”

The drifter dragged him along. “I was walkin’ down the street, see, and I saw these bloody footprints goin’ out of the door there.” She gestured to what she was describing, and Hancock kept a straight face. Fahrenheit squinted at the footprints, but said nothing. The drifter grabbed the door knob and turned it, opening the door. “I went to go see what happened, and… See, these doors are always locked, too, so I thought that was a bit odd.” She walked inside and gestured to the interior as Hancock and Fahrenheit, very closely, followed behind. “Look at it all, mayor! Who the hell could’ve fuckin’ done this?”

As Hancock looked around, he was more and more disgusted and impressed at the same time. The smell was fucking hideous and for the first time in a long time, Hancock had to resist the urge to gag. Those warehouses were always kind of humid on the inside, so the bodies were already starting to rot, and fast. There were bodies scattered all across the floor, draped over boxes, slumped against the cabinet. All of them had been brutally beaten, either by several hits to the torso or a hit or two to the head. As the trio moved to the stairs, he saw a triggerman’s body at the bottom of it. Judging by the blood smear going down the steps, he’d been shoved down after he got his just deserts. Couldn’t tell who the guy was, though, as his face had been thoroughly smashed to the point where it wasn’t even remotely looking like a face. Not far from the guy’s hand was a baseball bat, covered in blood, likely from rolling around in its previous owner’s as it went tumbling down the stairs.

“Who the hell could’ve done this? These guys were armed! With guns!” the drifter babbled. “How the hell do you take on this many people without gettin’ yaself filled with lead?” She gasped. “You don’t think it was that vaulty, was it?”

Hancock tore his eyes away from the sight and rubbed his chin. He had to find a way to bullshit an answer and fast.

“I don’t know,” he started slowly. “I… no, look.” He pointed to the baseball bat. “Whoever did it must’ve left their weapon. And we all know the vaulty only uses her crowbar. So it couldn’t have been her.”

The woman looked at it, then to Hancock. He kept a completely neutral face, but he felt his guts twisting with anxiety and he prayed to every being out there that she bought it. He couldn’t afford to have anyone suspecting her of anything. He needed her. Bad.

The woman frowned in thought before looking back at the baseball bat, then nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, I s’pose she does just use that crowbar, don’t she?”

“She does,” Fahrenheit said. “And she got attacked last night by someone with a baseball bat, too. Ran off before she could take care of them herself. Must’ve been some dumbass high out of their mind, thinking they could take the whole world on.” She glanced at the body at her feet and poked it with her boot. “Whatever the case is, they got pretty far before they called it quits. And now we got bodies to clean before we get scavengers crashing through town. We already got crows on the scene.” Fahrenheit looked down to the woman with a cold stare. “Thanks for letting us know about this. We’ll be sure to keep an eye on it.”

Hancock mentally almost collapsed with relief. Thank God for Fahrenheit, swooping in and saving the day. Just like usual.

“Right, right, no problem,” the woman said as the three of them left the warehouse. “I just saw somethin’ goofy and had to check it out, y’know?” She glanced around. “S’pose I oughtta get goin’ now. Wish you two good luck on findin’ this mystery killer.”

Hancock nodded as he and Fahrenheit parted ways with the woman. As soon as she was gone, Hancock sighed. Christ.

“Hancock,” Fahrenheit said quietly. The ghoul perked up.

“What’s up?”

“Those footprints aren’t the same as the vaulty’s boots. They’re shoe prints.”


	11. The Gallery, Part 1

It was about a week or so before Sy found herself in Hancock’s office again, looking for more work. Of course, Hancock didn’t leave her completely on her lonesome while she recovered from her last job. He’d stop by and make sure she was doing okay, got her some food, gave her more pain meds if she needed it - which had been only a time or two more. She’d grown a bit more comfortable with him giving it to her, though was still very much fearful of that needle. He still didn’t get why she was so afraid of that in particular. Hell, the stimpak needles are considerably bigger than those reusable ones, but she didn’t have a problem jabbing one of those into her body. Still, it gave him an excuse to be with her for a bit longer before he had to attend to… less enjoyable things.

Like the fact that it was well into the week and that trade caravan still hadn’t showed up. Daisy was dangerously close to having nothing in stock anymore, and KLEO was starting to get a little… restless. That scared Hancock, and he ain’t scared of anybody in Goodneighbor. The triggermen had been awful quiet as well, though he knew they had to have heard what happened the week before. They were likely keeping an eye on things from afar and deciding the best time to strike, and that worried Hancock, too. To say the very least.

He knew Marowski and everybody else working in the Rexford were with the Triggermen, but he couldn’t make a move on them. Not yet. Their business - definitely more the chem peddling rather than the hotel itself these days - was far too important to the town to get rid of, especially because he didn’t have anyone to take it and the hotel over. If he booted them all out now with no one else to provide the goods, there was going to be a decent chunk of the population that was going to be very, very displeased that they can’t get their fix.

But those worries seemed to fizzle away for the time being as Sy stepped into his office, asking for more work to be done so she could pay her rent. Or, well, so Hancock could pay her rent as payment for her doing the work. Hancock had the perfect job in mind - a bit of an investigation kinda job around a place known as the Pickman Gallery. Hancock had no idea why it was called that, but he knew there was a lot of raider activity around there. And it just so happened to be along the main - and really the only - way to Goodneighbor from Bunker Hill. Lately it’s been oddly quiet out that way, and he needed someone to check that place out to make sure that trade caravan, when it finally came through, didn’t suddenly get ambushed by raiders or God knew what else lived in and around the city ruins out there.

If it hadn’t already.

“Is there anything in particular I should expect to come across when I head out there, Mr. Hancock?” Sy asked, tossing Hancock out of his thoughts.

“Other than raiders? Not much, really,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe a couple super mutants passin’ through or settin’ up shop. Chameleon ‘claw or two if you’re really unlucky.”

“Super mutants? Chameleon ‘claws?” Sy repeated with a tilt of her head.

“Super mutants are pretty much big green people. Like eatin’ just about everything and everyone that crosses their paths,” Hancock smirked. “Real hospitable folks, as you can probably tell.” He rubbed his chin. “Now, as for chameleon claws… You know what a deathclaw is, right?”

Sy went deathly still before she answered. “Yes.”

“Chameleon deathclaws are like a subspecies of ‘em,” Hancock explained. “They’re quite a bit smaller, got little grabby hands and tails. They like stickin’ around high places so they can nest and shit, hence why they like the city ruins so much.” He perked up. “Oh! And they can do weird shit with their skin, like change colors and stuff. Sometimes for camouflage, other times to display moods.” Hancock chuckled. “And trust me, they can be really fuckin’ moody.”

Sy nodded slowly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for the information,” she said shakily as she got to her feet and headed for the doors. Hancock was understanding of the fearfulness of even hearing about having to deal with anything deathclaw related. They were monsters, the lot of them. Incredibly smart, cold-hearted killer lizards. There’s been more than one occasion where a single one has wiped out entire locations full of people, be those people humans or even super mutants. Hell, there’s even been stories of one giving old Swan a good run for his money after they crossed paths. They weren’t something to fuck with.

In fact, as Hancock thought more about it, a lot of the stuff going on out there really wasn’t something someone should be going into alone. If he sent Sy out there by herself, it was practically going to be a death sentence for her. Or far worse.

His fingers tapped on his knees as he thought. It probably wasn’t a smart idea to head out there with her, but… He needed some time to clear his head. Needed some time to remember what it’s like to live in some more… immediate, fun danger. And he did kind of want to see how she operated. Wanted to see her in action.

“You know what?” Hancock blurted out. Sy looked over her shoulder to him. “How about I come with you? It’s dangerous to go out there alone.”

Sy turned all the way around and tilted her head before shaking it. “No… No, you’re way too important to risk-”

“And so are you,” Hancock interjected without thinking. “You might not realize it, Sy, but… you’re a lot more important to the well being of this town than you might know. If you head up that way on your own, you’re probably going to get killed. Besides, I could use some time to stretch my legs. Hone the ol’ killer instinct, y’know?”

Sy seemed to shrink away and shook her head again. “But-”

“Sy, please,” Hancock begged. “I am not going to let you go on your own. Let me come with.”

“I-...” She paused, then sighed. “Okay, sorry. You can come with.”

“Don’t apologize,” Hancock said sternly. “It’s all good. I just kinda need this right now. Need to get down and dirty again. Y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sy responded. “Honestly, I’m kind of feeling the same way. Gotta get out and stretch my legs. And my swinging arm.”

“Then I s’pose we should head out there soon,” Hancock said with a smirk. “I’ll go let the people know the deal, get my shit ready. I’ll meet you back here when it’s all said and done.”

~~

It didn’t take long for the pair of them to get ready to head out. Hancock’s speech was a little rushed, and he didn’t have much he needed to pack. In all honesty, he was too excited to head out into the big ol’ dangerous world again to be bothered with much anything else. It’d been far too long for him since he did it last; at least a year or two ago, if he remembered correctly. Hell, maybe even longer. His poor shotgun had been collecting dust in the corner of his office for that long, he realized with a twinge of sadness. It made him happy to see the ol’ girl all spick and span after he cleaned it, and he could only imagine how nice it was gonna feel to put ‘er to use again.

And believe him, if he could do anything to make sure that trade caravan is going to make it to Goodneighbor, it was gonna get put to good use. Lots and lots of good, bloody and gory use.

Fahrenheit was watching him gleefully stuff his pack with supplies with an amused little grin, and Hancock couldn’t blame her. He probably looked like a little farm kid getting all excited to go to Diamond City for the first time with their folks, all starry eyed and smiley. He couldn’t help himself, really. It really was just too damned long since he last risked his life out in the wastelands, let alone risked it with another person in tow, and that made him all the more excited.

Doing stuff like that was always way more fun with friends than it was on your own by a fucking long shot, and the fact that it was Sy, the mysterious vault dweller of vault 111? The woman out of time? It made things even MORE ridiculous. How was she gonna do out there? What was she like when she went out into the wastes, and kicked that survival instinct into overdrive? Was she gonna smash some raider’s skulls open with her crowbar and muscly little arms? Was she gonna walk up to some raider and make ‘em shit themselves when they realize who just sauntered up to their shack? Was she gonna be all soft and polite to ‘em before whackin’ ‘em like she did Finn?

God, he was sure he was going to explode if he didn’t get out here soon.

He snagged the med kit from the counter and threw it into his bag. That was the last thing he needed, he was pretty sure. He had some food, a couple of cans of water, the medkit, and a sleeping bag strapped on top in case they needed to set up camp for the night. Pickman’s was a fair ways out from Goodneighbor as far as Hancock was aware, and while he wasn’t entirely sure if it would take them that long to get there, he figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

He heard the door squeak open and turned to see Sy cautiously walking in. He grinned and waved to her, and she did the same. Fahrenheit got up from the couch and nodded to Sy before heading out and doing her rounds for the morning.

“You all ready to go, Mr. Hancock?” she asked. She had her trench coat on, though the belt around the middle wasn’t tied, and her crowbar and pistol were holstered underneath. She had her mask on still, to Hancock’s disappointment. He still hadn’t seen her face yet at all. The fact that he had gotten to see her hair as much as he did was nothing short of a miracle. She had her own little bag of supplies with her as well, though it was considerably less than Hancock had. He looked back to his own pack with a troubled expression. She seemed to take notice of it and knelt beside him. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“What? No, not at all,” Hancock said, puzzled. “I was just thinkin’, that’s all.”

“Oh,” she mumbled after a moment. She fidgeted with the hem of her coat. “Sorry.”

Hancock shook his head. “No need to say sorry. It ain’t your fault.”

Sy went still for a moment before fidgeting again. Hancock looked at her sternly, already knowing what she was about to say. She took notice and looked away.

“I, um…” she stuttered. “What were you thinking about?”

She was trying really hard not to apologize for apologizing and Hancock could damn near feel it. It was both funny and a bit annoying to him. Did she really feel the need to apologize for everything she said or did?

“I just noticed how light you pack, is all,” Hancock said. “Was startin’ to wonder if I snagged too much.”

Sy scooted closer to his bag and rummaged through it. “No, I think you packed wisely. Though perhaps it would be good for us to split the load? That way we’re both at least somewhat evenly packed.”

Hancock rubbed his chin, then nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

Sy reached over for his bag and paused. “May I…?”

“Oh, yeah. Here you go,” Hancock said as he pushed the bag to Sy’s grasping hand. She took it and started taking things out, one by one, keeping them all neatly organized. Once everything was out, she looked over the inventory. Her hands, which were neatly folded in her lap, tapped some odd beat that only she was hearing as she looked.

“What would you prefer to keep to your bag as far as food goes?” Sy asked, looking to him.

Hancock shrugged. “S’pose it wouldn’t matter too much what we all have exactly. Just as long as we both have something.”

Sy looked back to the stuff laid out in front of them and nodded before taking things and moving them into two separate big groups. Both had two cans of water, a can of pork’n’beans, and three individual fancy lad snack cakes. She then rummaged through her own bag and pulled out a container of potato crisps and opened it, and to Hancock’s confusion, pulled out something neatly wrapped in parchment paper. She opened the paper and revealed a bundle of brahmin jerky strips. She laid the parchment out flat and set the strips next to one another. She tried to set them in pairs, but found there was one extra and kept starting over, growing more and more frustrated each time she did so.

“There’s seven of them, so we could split a strip,” Hancock offered. Sy paused what she was doing and looked at him, then nodded.

“I honestly hadn’t even considered splitting it,” she said as she ripped the piece in half. It wasn’t completely even, but it worked. She set the bigger half down on his side and set the smaller half on hers. “I was just going to give the fourth to you.”

Hancock frowned. “It’s your stuff, though. Wouldn’t you keep it for yourself?”

Sy shrugged and went back to rummaging through her belongings.

Hancock was confused. It was her stuff, so why wouldn’t she keep any extras to herself? She does far more travelling than he does, and she travels alone. You didn’t just give someone your stuff like that. That’s what got people to think they could step all over you.

“This is all I have in my pack as far as food goes, Mr. Hancock,” Sy murmured. “I usually just grab stuff as I go about my day. Live off the land. Keeps me from having to pack a lot of things, outside of decent water.”

Hancock nodded. “Not a bad move as far as country livin’ goes. You might not have that kind of opportunity out in the city, though.”

Sy chuckled. “Trust me, I know. City life definitely isn’t easy nowadays.”

Hancock laughed back. “No kiddin’, sister. No kiddin’.”

They sat in comfortable silence as they packed their things. They both kept things at least mostly organized, though Sy seemed to be very particular about how she did her thing. Everything was kept in a specific compartment in her bag. Food and water kept in the main area, stimpaks and other med stuff in one of the smaller side pockets on the inside, whatever caps she actually kept in another. Extra ammo was kept in a small outside pocket, and there was more inside the bag, too, if Hancock remembered right. She apparently didn’t keep a lot on her, since she didn’t use her gun unless she absolutely had to. That seemed to be true.

Once everything was packed, they threw on their packs and headed out. As they stepped out onto the street, a few people had watched in shock as their mayor walked with the vault dweller. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He did say he was leaving, but he didn’t say why or who with. The reactions, while somewhat understandable, were still rather amusing for him. He saw the blue drifter - Darlene, he learned her name was - watching him from afar. She looked concerned, but Hancock didn’t really care. He’d be fine. As he and Sy got to the door out, he stepped in front of her and opened the door for her.

“Ladies first,” he said with a grin as he gestured for her to step through. Sy looked at him before walking through the doorway after a moment’s hesitation. He followed her through and they finally began their little adventure.

They traversed in a comfortable silence at first, for the sake of caution if nothing else. There were a couple of Neighborhood watch posted just outside the gates, who waved to the pair as they left. Hancock waved to them Sy waved, too, to Hancock’s surprise. Normally she was too shy to do that sort of thing. They moved on in silence, keeping to the walls and even the interiors of the buildings when necessary. Hancock kept an eye on the buildings towering around them, watching for any movement from man or beast while Sy kept an eye on the streets around them. It was a bit of a cloudy day, and kind of chilly, too. Though that never really stopped much of anything from happening.

“So, Mr. Hancock,” Sy started quietly as the two of them made their way down the street. “I have a question to ask you. A kind of personal one, I guess.”

Hancock glanced at her with a furrowed brow. What was that supposed to mean? “Whatcha got on your mind, sister?”

“I, um… I don’t know how to ask this without coming off as offensive, so I do apo-” She stopped herself. Hancock smiled gently in reassurance.

“What... happened to you?” she finally asked, gesturing to him. He looked down at himself confusedly before it finally clicked.

Oh.

“I’m a ghoul, Sy, same as Daisy and just about everyone else that looks like me,” Hancock murmured. “Haven’t you ever seen a ghoul before?”

Sy thought on it and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Hancock frowned. “What about your arms and legs? Those look like feral bites.”

Sy looked down to her legs and arms, then back up, but said nothing.

“Feral ghouls. They’re people that have gone insane from becoming overly irradiated,” Hancock explained. “They aren’t exactly the same as me and Daisy and all them, but eventually we’ll end up like ‘em.”

Sy was silent and Hancock could tell he was just making her more confused. “I’ll explain it when we have more time, okay? It’s kind of a complicated thing,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Just… just don’t ask other people, alright? I’m okay with explaining it all to ya, but a lot of ghouls find the whole ordeal to be a bit of a touchy subject.”

Sy nodded and they continued on their way. Hancock sighed. He supposed that explained why she wasn’t afraid of normal ghouls, at least partially - she didn’t know feral ghouls and intelligent ghouls were related.

They continued on their way in considerably less comfortable silence than before, at least on Hancock’s end. He couldn’t help but worry that he’d said too much, that he’d scared her by saying he’d end up like the same things that had attacked her before she had come to Goodneighbor some day. It was an inevitable truth, Hancock knew, but still… he didn’t want to scare her off. She was new and impressionable in more ways than just being new to the neighborhood, he realized, and he’s gotta remember that. It would be best that they sat down and talked about it when they had time.

A flicker of movement up in one of the buildings to the left caught Hancock’s eye. Sy didn’t seem to notice, however, and kept moving forward. Hancock instinctively grabbed her pack and pulled her to him before practically dragging her into a building across the street for cover . The action made her visibly flinch and he had a sneaking suspicion she would’ve started bolting if she didn’t realize it was him. He ducked under the window sill while Sy more or less flopped down under it.

After a few minutes passed, Hancock took a chance and sat up, looking out the broken window to the building across from them. For what seemed to be literal ages, he saw nothing. Just as he was about to give the all-clear, more movement caught his eye. He squinted at the culprit, trying his best to make out what it was. It was big - bigger than a person, he was fairly sure. It was an odd color, too - like someone had taken a bunch of red, blue, green, and white paint and just dumped it all over with abandon. He couldn’t tell what it was until it moved to the edge of the building’s roof and balanced itself at the edge.

Its unusually shaped talons gripped at the edge of the building’s roof, and its scaly tail was oddly curled. It wriggled its haunches before leaping to the building adjacent to it, its target a large hole in the wall, where it likely had its nest. It scrambled for purchase before clambering inside, where the loud cries of its unholy offspring could be heard. It was a chameleon deathclaw. And a mother one, at that. She was probably just passing through as they had, but Hancock didn’t want to take any chances. Deathclaws were a force to be reckoned with from the get go. Pair that up with some motherly instincts? You got a recipe for disaster headed right your way.

“We might be sittin’ here for a bit,” Hancock said quietly as he sat back down beside Sy. When she didn’t answer, Hancock looked over and noticed she was shaking just terrible. Could just see her trembling, even through that big ass trench coat she wore. She was staring at the wall, and Hancock was momentarily worried that someone or something had come in while he wasn’t looking. When he looked, nothing was there.

“You good?” he asked her. Still no answer. He leaned forward and waved a hand in front of Sy’s face. “Sy? Are you okay?”

She practically jumped out of her skin as her head snapped over in his direction. He could hear her hyperventilating through the mask and Hancock was worried she was gonna pass out.

“Yeah, uh… Yeah, I’m fine,” she grit out. “Just dandy, Mr. Hancock. Just, uh… startled, is all. Just startled.”

Hancock hesitated before leaning back against the wall. “Alright, if you say so.”

He watched her as she turned her attention back to the wall and worked to slow her breathing. Her fingers tapped as each second passed. In, out, in, out. Hancock wasn’t entirely sure what had scared her as bad as it did. Probably just the chameleon ‘claw, though, if the reaction from just talking about them earlier said anything.

The sound of something heavy clanging against metal caught Hancock’s attention and he looked back outside to see the ‘claw in question trotting along the roof he first saw it on with an odd grace before it turned and disappeared from his sight. He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled himself from the wall before turning and offering Sy a hand.

“It’s alright, she’s gone. We can keep moving again,” Hancock murmured. Sy looked up at him before silently taking his hand and hoisting herself up. She was quite light, but strong. Hancock wasn’t sure what he expected, but he was pretty sure she was going to break his hand with how tightly she held it.

The streets were oddly quiet after that little encounter, and Hancock didn’t like it one bit. Would’ve made his hair stand on end with how the tense silence swirled about them both. If he had any hair left at all, that is. Sy seemed to feel the same way, as she had her thumb hooked through her holster, ready to grab her pistol at a moment’s notice if anything or anyone came out to say hello. The closer they got to where the Pickman Gallery was supposed to be, the quieter things got. Didn’t even look like there were pigeons flying around. And those little shits were everywhere in what was left of this city. It wasn’t long before they started noticing signs put out on the sidewalks. “Pickman Gallery is right this way” was written on them, in really fancy looking red letters. There were arrows on the signs, guiding them as they went. They passed a couple of old broken down trucks before approaching one final big sign, reading “Welcome to the Pickman Gallery.”. There was a warm glow to the left of the sign, beckoning them closer to an alleyway of sorts.

“I guess this is it right here,” Sy said, her voice taut as she pointed up to the building to their left. Hancock looked to where she gestured and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

Even from the outside, the place looked like it was damn near haunted. And that was a feat considering that pretty much every pre-war building in the wastelands had ghosts in it, one way or another. But this place… there was something about it when they got there. The oddly well-kept and clean windows, the little barrel fire welcoming the pair as they approached the deceptively charming little red door… And then there were the flowers out front. Roses, all of them. Red roses, meticulously kept and flourishing despite the odd place they grew. It was welcoming looking enough, but oh, so vaguely... wrong. Raiders used to be out here by the number, and now it’s completely dead. Ain’t a soul walking this street, save for the pair of them. And now they were going to waltz right on in there to see what was going on.

Hancock was beginning to feel like this was turning into a very bad idea, very quickly. But it was too late now. They were here, and they had a job to do.

“How should we get in?” Sy whispered, looking back to Hancock. He looked up and down the building, but no matter what angle he looked, it seemed the only way they were gonna be getting in was right through that charming little red door. Lovely.

“Guess we’re just gonna have to go in through the door. No way we’re gonna be able to climb anywhere with how this place is set,” Hancock said tersely. Sy let out a breath and nodded before pulling out her crowbar. Hancock had his shotgun in hand already. No way in hell he’d be walking into a place like that without something in his hands. Just… no.

“Let’s not waste any time, then,” she said almost sullenly. She stepped forward and made her way to the door. Hancock wasted no time following closely behind and watched as she put her hand on the doorknob and turned.

Nothing happened when the door opened. No surprises, nothing. The door simply swung open without so much as a squeak, like someone oiled the hinges all this time. Sy took a cautious step inside and Hancock quickly followed suit. He looked down to see an oddly clean welcome mat in front of the door and very briefly wondered if whoever lived here was like one of those from the Cabot family. All oddly prim and proper, sticking out like a sore thumb in comparison to the rest of the world today.

The inside was no better than the outside. In fact, it was far, far worse. Hancock’s gut churned as the stench of death hit what was left of his nose. It was so foul, even Sy could smell it through her mask, as she waved her hand in front of her face like it was going to do anything. Honestly, if this wasn’t the situation they were in, Hancock would’ve laughed at the attempt. There was a room almost immediately to their left when they walked in, with candles or a little fire or something lighting it up inside, and stairs to their right, going up. Between the room and the stairs, there was an odd little hallway. Sy walked forward and peeked into the room to their left and gasped before pulling back and staring at Hancock with what he had to assume was a shocked and horrified expression. Curiosity got the best of him and he stepped forward to take a look for himself.

Needless to say, he immediately regretted it.

The room was practically chock full of bodies. Most, if not all of them weren’t even whole, and a lot of them were nothing more than piles of rotting gore and blood. Hardly recognizable that they were ever people. There were candles set up all around this corpse pile, set up on tall holders and pyres that were jabbed through the carcasses. And then there were the paintings on the walls. They covered them, swarming the walls with red and yellow paintings of faces with missing eyes, a face with snakes coming out of the mouth, an angel-like being, more eyes. Candles were placed underneath each one of these horrid creations, giving them all a better lighting than they deserved.

“See, this is why I got no taste for art,” Hancock said, disgusted. He glanced back to Sy and had to do a double take when he noticed a hand reaching out from the other side of the doorway.

He reacted before he even had time to think on it. He rushed forward, shoving Sy forward and safely out of the way just as the glint of a blade came rushing out with lightning speed. Searing pain lanced through his left arm and he snarled before wheeling his shotgun around and filling the assailant full of lead. They stumbled back and fell to the ground with a choked gurgle, and all fell silent once again.

He looked back to see Sy peeling herself from the wall, and felt a little bad that he pushed her that hard. She slowly got to her feet and swayed a little before using the wall to brace herself for a moment. When she noticed the state Hancock was in, she stumbled over and fumbled with her bag, like she was going to tend to the wound right then and there.

The sound of voices outside snapped her out of the stupor she was in real quick, though.

“Alright, Pickman! Time’s up!” a gruff male voice bellowed. “Your time of causin’ bullshit with our gang is over, buddy! You’re fuckin’ done for!”

A cacophony of shouts followed the man’s declaration. Hancock and Sy exchanged a glance. This just went from bad to worse, real fast.


	12. The Gallery, Part 2

Hancock had found himself in plenty of sticky situations in the past. Had a long history of it, if he were honest. Though as Sy dragged him up the stairs as his own blood dripped from his fingertips, he was starting to wonder if this would be the last. They were trapped in a house while who knows how many raiders were knocking at the door, spittin’ mad and lookin’ for vengeance. Err, well, looking for vengeance more than usual.

When they made it to the top floor, Sy looked around desperately for some place to hide while Hancock took a moment to catch his breath and survey the damages. He meandered into what he assumed was that Pickman guy’s bedroom and plopped down in a plush, red chair. He let go of his arm and looked down at it. He grimaced, both from the pain and from the mess.

It was a pretty gnarly gash. Went horizontally across his upper arm, just beyond the base of his shoulder. The entire sleeve of his coat and undershirt on that side was pretty well soaked with blood, not to mention torn wide open from that damned knife. It was gonna be expensive as all hell to get those cleaned and sewed back up, and Hancock knew it.

“Hancock!” Sy hissed, making him snap to attention. He glanced over to her and noticed she was peeking out at him from a hole in the wall. She quickly gestured for him to get up and follow her. He got up from the chair and had to steady himself as his head began to swim.

The door being busted open sent him right on his way, though.

“Alright, Pickman! I ain’t waitin’ any fuckin’ more!” the same voice from before bellowed. “Let’s go, boys and girls! We got a fuckin’ psychopath to put in the ground!”

The sound of footsteps quickly moving about the lower floors could be heard as Hancock moved as quickly and as quietly as he could to the hole in the wall. It looked to be some kind of service hall area, or… something. Hancock didn’t know, nor did he have time to care. Part of the floor was missing just behind Sy, but beyond that, there was more room.

“They won’t be able to see us back there,” Sy whispered, deathly quiet. Hancock could hardly hear her through her mask. “But we’re either gonna have to jump for it, or balance across that tubing. Okay?”

Hancock looked past her again. “How am I gonna get across?” he asked, gesturing to his arm. Sy let out a quick breath.

“I can help you, maybe. I don’t know how exactly, but…” She flailed her hands back and forth. “We gotta move.”

Hancock swallowed down the lump of anxiety forming in his gut and nodded. Sy looked down to the shotgun in Hancock’s hand before looking back to the hidden spot.

“Let me take that so you have both hands free if you need them,” Sy murmured. Hancock hesitated before handing her his shotgun. He didn’t like the thought of giving up his weaponry like this, but he didn’t have much of a choice. And his grip was starting to get pretty loose in that arm, anyway, so it was likely for the best. She gingerly took it from him and moved over to the tubing on the right side of the hall and rested it on its side where the tubing and wall met and made a little cradle of sorts. She pushed it forward and watched it slide safely to the other end of the hall before giving Hancock a thumbs up and moving back over to him. It made surprisingly little noise, to Hancock’s relief.

There was a commotion downstairs and some raider swore under their breath far below them.

“Oh, holy hell… Hey, Slab? Pickman’s already dead! He’s right in here!”

Hancock’s eyes widened. Slab himself was here? That was a surprise. Pickman must’ve been giving his boys a lot of shit if he came out here himself.

“Seriously? Who took him out? Couldn’t have been one of us…”

“I dunno, but it looks like Pickman got ‘em before he got his.”

There was a pause.

“Actually… look here, boss. There’s a blood trail goin’ up the stairs.”

A feeling of dread washed over Hancock and he and Sy exchanged a glance. They had to move, and they had to move now.

“You go first,” Sy commanded. “I’ll be right after you.”

Hancock groaned in protest and Sy almost clasped a hand over his mouth before she realized what she was doing. She put her hand back down and awkwardly gestured for him to move as she stepped out of his way. He gaged the gap between the flooring. He should be able to make it across by just making a running jump for it, but it wasn’t going to feel good. Using the tubing to balance across was pretty much a no-go, considering his arm was feeling more and more like dead weight by the second.

He glanced back at Sy, who looked out to make sure no one was coming up the stairs before looking back at him and giving him a thumbs up. He let out a breath and braced himself, both physically and mentally, before running forward and taking the leap.

He landed clumsily, but kept on his feet. His arm throbbed with pain at the sudden movements and he could feel the blood dribbling down his arm. He used his other hand to try and stop the bleeding again, but it just oozed out from between his fingers.

Was he starting to get cold? Please tell him he wasn’t getting cold.

He staggered over to as far back as the hall went before slumping down against the back wall. He watched Sy as she took one look back behind her before getting a running start and leaping to the other ledge. She safely reached the other side, but didn’t land as quietly as he did, to his surprise. The ledge creaked, and there was a commotion downstairs again. Sy quickly moved and sat down beside Hancock, pistol in both hands and trained in front of her.

“What the fuck was that?”

The voices were louder than before. They must’ve gotten up to the second floor already.

“Gotta be whoever took Pickman out. Should we go after ‘em?”

The first voice - Slab, it must’ve been - grumbled in thought. “Well, we were just here to take Pickman out, but… s’pose it wouldn’t hurt to try and look. I don’t wanna stay here for long, though. This place fuckin’ reeks.”

“No kiddin’.”

The sounds of footsteps coming up the second floor’s stairs could be heard. Hancock tensed and immediately regretted it, as it sent pain shooting up and down his arm again. Christ, he didn’t know what Pickman had on that blade, but this sure wasn’t your ordinary cut. He supposed it wasn’t to begin with, but… still. He must’ve dipped the blade in some kind of chemical or something because it hurt like absolute hell. Not to mention, the damned thing was still bleeding like it only just happened. He figured it would’ve at least slowed down a little, but it hadn’t slowed a bit.

The raiders clambered around the rooms, knocking over boxes and searching through all the little nooks and crannies they could think to look in. It wasn’t long before a head poked through the hole in the wall and looked over in their direction, before looking down at the gap in the flooring. Hancock and Sy went deathly silent, and kept as still as they possibly could. Sy’s gun was trained on it, but she didn’t dare take the shot. Not yet.

“Hey, guys! I think I found where they went!” the raider, a blonde haired kid, no older than 17, called out to his comrades. Two more heads poked through and looked down.

“Should we go in there?” the kid asked eagerly. “Could be a secret spot for loot, if nothin’ else.”

The two heads that had just poked in exchanged a glance before looking back down, pondering for a moment. One of the heads, which was covered in a rucksack with eye holes cut out of it, nodded.

“Yeah, I s’pose we could go down there,” the man said. It was Slab. “How we gonna get out, though?”

The other head, brown haired girl with a mohawk and black face paint to look like diamonds over her eyes, grinned smugly. “There’s a door on the first floor that leads to the lower levels of the building. It’s really fuckin’ locked, though.”

Slab snorted. “Just bust it down, then. It’s what we usually do.”

“Wouldn’t you rather keep on the killer’s trail, though?” the blonde haired kid asked genuinely. “We might lose them if we take another route.”

Slab rubbed his chin as he thought. The kid looked at him with all the hope in the world, while the mohawk girl looked as though she already knew what the answer was.

“Nah, we’ll head through the door,” Slab said decisively. “I don’t wanna risk people gettin’ injured from the fall. ‘Specially since that killer is still here somewhere.”

The kid pouted, but nodded. The brown haired girl’s grin widened and they both pulled away from the hole in the wall. Slab took one last look around. Hancock’s heart was ready to burst through his chest as Slab’s gaze fell to the shotgun still resting on the tubing. He looked to his own gun, then back to the shotgun, before turning away and walking back into the bedroom.

“Alright, boys and girls! We’re headin’ downstairs.” he called. The sound of footsteps skittering about the third floor and making their way to the lower levels echoed through the building, before falling mostly silent. Hancock and Sy both let out a breath and looked to each other, though the simple movement of his head sent him reeling. Sy noticed the state he was in, set aside her gun, and quickly started rummaging through her bag. It wasn’t long before they heard something downstairs get slammed into a few times before everything went completely silent again.

“Hang in there, Mr. Hancock,” she cooed. “I don’t have much, but I have stimpacks. And you have that medkit!”

She pulled out a stimpack syringe before looking around. “I… what should I do?”

“Just, uh…” Hancock’s voice trailed off as he struggled to think. “Use the stimpack. I gotta get my shit off, first, though…”

He struggled to sit up and took off his pack, hissing in pain as the strap dragged across the gash. Sy tossed the stimpack onto her pack and quickly scooted over to help him out, making sure she didn’t brush over the wound as best she could. Once his pack was off of him, she started working at his frock coat, and then his undershirt. Hancock batted self-conscious thoughts away as each layer of clothing was taken and tossed aside. He knew the situation was dire and it was imperative that he was tended to, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit worrisome at how she’d take the look and feel of a ghoul’s skin. His upper body was completely exposed to her now, and he couldn’t help but squirm under her gaze. He couldn’t imagine her being particularly comfortable looking at the gnarled, almost wrinkly looking radiation burns that covered his body, much less the feel of them.

She didn’t notice nor care, however, as she grabbed the stimpack from the top of her pack and plunged it into his shoulder. Her other hand held his other shoulder, keeping him still as she pushed the contents of the syringe into him. He bit back a growl as he felt the fluids in the syringe empty into his arm and go right to work. Sy pulled it back out and tossed the now empty stimpack onto her pack again and watched as it worked its magic. The familiar but uncomfortable, itchy, almost tingly feeling of the stimpack stitching his flesh back together raced across the wound, starting from the inside and working its way out. The bleeding quickly stopped, and the pain slowly began to fade to a dull throb before the stimpack sealed the surface of his arm, leaving a puckered scar. He let it sit for a minute or two to make sure the stimpack did what it needed to do while Sy watched him intently.

“How are you feeling now?” Sy whispered. Hancock tested his arm, flexing it a little and moving his fingers and hand. He still felt a bit weak from the loss of blood, but otherwise, he felt alright.

“I think I’m doin’ okay, sister,” he whispered back. “Just need a bit to re-”

He went quiet as he heard footsteps in the bedroom move towards the hole in the wall. Sy looked back and grabbed her crowbar before turning all the way around, just in time to see the blonde haired kid come walking in and looking around with a lantern in his hand.

“Who’s in here?”

He looked to his right first, and saw nothing. He especially didn’t see the crowbar hurtling through the darkness and clocking him right in the back of the head, sending him stumbling and falling down the gap between the sections of flooring, taking the lantern and crowbar with him. He landed in a heap, head first, without another sound. Sy laid down on her stomach and pulled herself to the edge of the ledge to look down at the aftermath, before sitting up and looking back at Hancock.

“Uh oh,” she murmured. Hancock resisted the urge to snort. Something about how that all just played out was kind of funny to him, though he briefly wondered if that was the dizzy feeling of the blood loss and the painkiller in the stimpack making him feel all silly. Sy sat up and grabbed the empty stimpack again before laying back down on her stomach and letting herself hang over the ledge. There was a moment of silence before Sy jerked and something clattered against the ground underneath them. She sat back up again and scooted back. Must’ve thrown the stimpack down there to make it look like the killer took the kid out and moved on.

But then she scooted back over to the ledge and looked down again, her fingers worrying at the wood of the floor.

“Sy, you have to keep still,” Hancock whispered. “You keep moving and they’re gonna hear you.”

Sy looked back to him. “My crowbar, Hancock. It’s down there. They’ll know it’s me here.”

“What are the chances that they’re gonna know it’s you?” Hancock asked with a snort. “Contrary to popular belief, there’s a lot of people out there that use crowbars as a weapon. You aren’t the only one, y’know.”

She stood up. “If they figure out that I’m here, they’ll hunt us down till we can’t run anymore. I can’t take that risk for you. Not when you’re like this.”

Hancock’s brow furrowed. “We can hold our own here. We just have to wait it out.”

“No, Hancock,” Sy pleaded. “It’s too risky for that. I need to get them off our trail. Preferably before they even find our trail.”

“Okay then, fine,” Hancock spat. “What are you going to do, then?”

Sy let out a breath and Hancock’s eyes widened as he watched her lift her hands to her mask. The paint on it had been scratched and Hancock was fairly certain the mask itself was actually cracked open a bit. A twinge of guilt passed through him as he realized that must have been from when he pushed her out of the way earlier. One hand pulled the hood back, exposing that fluffy mane of auburn hair, before both hands moved to the chin of the mask and pulled it up. Hancock watched her intently as the mask came off, but it was too dark to see. He squinted as best he could, but to no avail, and a surge of frustration bubbled through him for just a moment. She leapt to the other ledge before turning back to look at him. Only the left side of her face was visible, and Hancock’s eyes widened as he took in the sight.

The entire left side of her face was ripped apart. Healed over, but severely mangled. Her eye was missing, and in its place was a white ceramic orb, all polished and shiny. Her lips had been ripped apart, leaving that side of her mouth permanently open and snarling. There was a bit of dried blood from her nose that made its way down the ridge of scars of her upper lip.

“I’m going to do something probably very stupid, but I’m doing it anyway,” Sy said softly. “If they want me, they can have me. But they aren’t actually to get me this easy.” She looked down to the mask, then back up at him. “I need you to stay put and quiet until I come back. If I don’t, then wait it out until they leave. Don’t worry about me. Don’t look for me. Just try and get home. Stick to the rooftops and upper floors.”

Before Hancock had any time to object, Sy turned to the hole in the wall. “Wish me luck, Mr. Hancock.”

And then she left without another word.

Hancock stared at the place she was just standing in, shocked. Was she seriously risking her life for him? On her own? Why?! Why would she do that? They would’ve been perfectly safe if they just stayed put!

For what felt like actual ages, Hancock waited. It was silent for the most part, but he would hear someone moving about the lower floors every so often. Even heard someone underneath him, but they didn’t say anything about the kid lying dead on the ground, so he assumed it was Sy. Then it all went silent again for a while.

It had to have been at least a half an hour now, and Hancock was getting restless. Where the hell was she? Why was she taking so long? Did she get caught?

He heard a commotion underneath him.

“No fuckin’ way…” Slab’s voice growled. “Jake, you fuckin’ dipshit. I told you not to come down this way for a fuckin’ reason…”

Hancock heard Slab moving about the hallway underneath him. It went quiet for a moment.

“A stimpack…? And a crow… bar...”

Hancock’s gut twisted as it fell silent again. Seconds felt like days and he swore he was ready to up and bolt out this place. Jump through one of them stupidly clean windows and make a break for it on the roofs, like Sy told him to. But before he did so, there were more sounds of Slab very quickly moving back down into the bowels of this god forsaken building.

“Guys, you won’t believe who the fuck’s in here right now!”

Just then, someone tiptoed in through the hole in the wall, giving Hancock a right proper scare. He reached for his shotgun, but then he noticed the auburn hair and realized who it was.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Hancock murmured, relieved. “I thought I was gonna have to leave you behind.”

“Nope! Not this time, Mr. Hancock,” Sy said triumphantly as she sat down cross legged beside him. “The decoy has been set, and hopefully they’ll take their leave after they find it.” She scratched her chin, and he noticed her hands were all bloody. “The lot of them are all underneath the building, in some, like… hidden tunnel way or something, I don’t know. I put my mask on a fresh kill in the corpse room, then snagged a can of blood to make it look like the trail went back down the stairs.”

Hancock smiled. “That’s a damn clever idea. Good on you, Sy.”

Even though it was difficult to see, Hancock could’ve sworn Sy beamed at the compliment. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Hancock responded. Sy tapped her hands on her knees before taking Hancock’s frock coat and undershirt and neatly folding them before putting them in her bag. She then took out one of her cans of water, along with a rag that Hancock wasn’t sure where she got, before wetting it and handing it to him.

“Here,” she murmured. “So you don’t have to be all caked in your own blood anymore.”

Hancock looked at it dumbly before taking it from her. He scrubbed at his skin, working the blood off his arm and hands the best he could. It came off pretty easy, but some of the deeper gouges and wrinkles in his skin proved difficult to clean. He gave himself a once over before handing it back to Sy, who doused it in some more water, wrung it out, and cleaned up her nose and hands before rinsing it off again and putting it back in her bag.

He noticed her looking at him for a while, seemingly in thought, before she shrugged off her trench coat and handed it to him.

“Oh, Sy, you don’t have to-”

“Take it,” she said sternly. “I don’t want you getting cold, nor do I want you walking around in those bloody clothes when we get out of here. You’ll be uncomfortable, not to mention smelly.”

Hancock was about to tell her that he can’t get cold anymore because of the rads in his system, but he knew that would send her right back into ghoul confusion and decided it was best just to keep quiet and put the coat on.

It fit him about as well as he’d expected it to. He was as tall as Sy was, but a lot thinner, so it looked even bigger on him than it did her. Christ, he could probably make a house in the damned thing if he wanted to. He rolled up the sleeves so he could actually use his hands and cinched the belt before looking back over to Sy for approval. She was looking at him with a goofy little smile before giving him a thumbs up.

“No fuckin’ way… No fuckin’ way!” Some raider’s voice called out from the first floor, breaking them out of their little reverie. “Slab! Slab, you gotta come in here! Right now!”

Several footsteps underneath them quickly moved around downstairs and a clamor of voices broke out.

“It’s the vaulty, boss. He killed the vaulty,” the voice from before said solemnly. “How did… How did he even manage that?”

“I dunno, Travis, but… damn,” Slab said with a chuckle. “Guess he was good for one thing, after all. Two birds, one stone, am I right?”

The crowd grew louder and a few people laughed before Slab quieted them down.

“Alright. Alright, folks,” he said loudly. “You all got the shit you wanted?”

“Yeah, boss!”

“Sure did!”

“Well, I didn’t, but-”

“Alright, good! Now let’s get the fuck out of here and go home,” Slab commanded. “Pay our respects to those who lost their lives here. ‘Cept Pickman. He might’ve felled the vaulty, but he ain’t gettin’ shit. Lost a lot of good folks because of that sick fuckin’ freak.”

Sy and Hancock waited as they all cleared out of the building and waited a while more after everything went quiet again, just to be sure that they were gone. When they were certain, they finally got to their feet and took the time to get some much-needed stretches. Hancock’s muscles were stiff as all hell from sitting so long, but his head seemed to be a bit more clear than it was before. He was a bit hungry, though.

Sy slid Hancock’s shotgun back across the tubing and they both leapt across the gap before making their way into Pickman’s bedroom, though he was sure to grab his gun before he left. As they went into the light, Hancock got to see the entirety of Sy’s face this time. There was some scarring on the other side of her face, too, but it wasn’t nearly as bad. Just a cut going across the bridge of her nose, across her cheek a little ways under her eye, and ending at the side of her face. There was a second cut that went down her cheek, almost parallel to the giant gashes on the other side. Her blue-hazel eye and that half of her mouth were untouched, however, leaving just a hint of what she looked like before whatever the fuck happened to her, well… happened to her.

Sy looked down at her vault suit, then around Pickman’s room before going over to a suitcase and rummaging through it. She pulled out some clothing and armor pieces and inspected them before looking over to Hancock.

“Do, um… Do you mind if I change before we leave?” she asked quietly. “I don’t really want to wear this old thing anymore. No protection, y’know?”

Hancock nodded. “You do what you gotta, sister. I’ll keep an eye out and make sure nothin’ happens.”

Sy smiled at him before walking back over to the hole in the wall. He kept himself focused on the stairs, his ears pricked and his eyes peeled for any trouble as Sy did her thing. A few minutes passed before she stepped out of the hole in the wall.

“How do I look?” she asked, awkwardly striking a pose as Hancock turned to look at her. She was wearing a mostly zipped up leather jacket and some old, worn out, grey jeans. The jeans were tight fitting on her, but the jacket was a bit big. She had a red t-shirt underneath and just a hint of a Nuka-World logo was poking out. Her pistol holster was at her usual spot but her other side felt oddly barren without her trusty crowbar there. She had metal shin guards covering her legs and metal guards over her forearms as well - spiky yet pointless, the classic raider look. The vault suit was bunched up in her hands and her bag was strapped to her back.

“I think you look pretty damn good, sister,” Hancock said genuinely. Sy’s face started turning pink and she smiled. It was an odd thing to look at. The mostly unscarred side of her face moved and acted just fine, but the other side kept still for the most part. One side was super lively, while the other was just… blank. Almost haunted looking, in a way. The pupiless and iris-less white orb where her eye was supposed to be didn’t help matters.

“Thank you,” she said sheepishly. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, please, Mr. Hancock? I want to get home.”

Hancock laughed as they made their way down the stairs. “Sure thing, sister.”

As they left the Pickman Gallery, Sy threw her vault suit in the barrel fire out front and he noticed she never grabbed her crowbar from the corpse pile room. But, before he could ask, she ran out ahead of him. He wasn’t sure why at first until he looked out across the water, to the bridge back to Goodneighbor.

There was a group of brahmin and rad-mules crossing it, with metric fuck tons of goods and containers full of goods strapped to their backs. They were accompanied by a few people on hayburner-back.

The caravan was here.

Hancock and Sy ran out to the main road and ran onto the bridge after them, calling out for them to slow down. The back three guarding the herd’s rear wheeled around and pointed their guns at them, making them both raise their hands in the air. The hayburners snorted at them, while the rest of the herd mooed in protest once they were stopped.

“It’s okay, we’re not here to hurt you or rob you or nothin’,” Hancock reassured them breathlessly. His arm throbbed in protest at all this physical exertion. “We’re just wonderin’ if we can provide guns for a ride to Goodneighbor, is all.”

The center guard, a black haired man with a patchy beard, frowned and squinted at them. “... Mayor Hancock?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” the ghoul rasped.

“Why the hell are you all the way out here?” the center guard asked incredulously. “And what’s with the trench coat? And the girl?” He glanced over at Sy and fought the urge to flinch when he saw her face. Sy pursed what remained of her lips, but said nothing.

“It’s a long story, Davie,” Hancock said with a breathy chuckle. “I can tell ya if ya let me and my friend here hitch a ride.”

Davie looked to his fellow guards, who both nodded to him. They all put their guns down, and Davie pointed to a couple of empty rad-mules just in front of them.

“You can hitch a ride on them two if you’d like,” Davie explained. “They’re both good ol’ mules. Don’t get spooked by much of anything.”

“Thanks, man,” Hancock said graciously as he made his way over to the nearest mule. “I’ll be sure to pay you guys back when we’re home.”

Davie nodded. “Sounds good.”

Sy made her way over to her own rad-mule and hopped on like there wasn’t any issue. The mule looked back at her curiously as she smiled and petted its back. Hancock, however, was having no such luck. There wasn’t any saddle on the damned thing, so it wasn’t like he could use the foot thingies - Hancock had no idea what they were called - to help get up on the thing’s back. Not to mention his arm really did not appreciate all the work he was trying to put it through. Sy looked over to him and gave her mule one more little pat before getting off.

“Here, let me help you,” Sy grunted as she hoisted him up from below. Hancock scrabbled at the mule’s back as she lifted him, making the mule snort and stamp its hooves. He pet its back and shushed it, which to his surprise, actually did calm it down. Sy looked up from petting the mule’s snout and smiled at him.

“Uh, thank you,” Hancock stuttered, feeling oddly flustered.

“Don’t refer to me as the vaulty anymore,” she whispered. “I’m just Sy now, okay? The vault dweller of 111 is dead.”

She nodded with a smile and went back to her mule before hopping on and petting it again. Hancock looked at her confusedly but knew better than to ask what the fuck that was about right now.

“You two ready to go?” Davie asked both of them.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Hancock said distractedly.

“I’m ready!” Sy said excitedly.

With that, Davie whistled to the whole group, letting the front and middle guards know they could start moving again. The back guards started last, as they waited for the herd to move before they did. Hancock tried his best to keep himself steady on the rad-mule’s back, but it was a bit harder for him than he’d like without a saddle. He looked over to Sy, who seemingly wasn’t having an issue at all. In fact, she was enjoying it, it looked like. So much so that she was singing some little tune under her breath. Couldn’t catch most of it over the rumble of the herd, but it was something about taking a horse to an old town road, or… something. He wasn’t sure. All he knew and really cared about was that they were homebound, the caravan was finally coming, and he and Sy were safe to live another day.

And his town was at least a little bit safer from crumbling for another few weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Sy has deathclaw friends.


End file.
